


CoSL32: Keys to the Kingdom

by Dracophile



Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [32]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/M, Travel, Treasure Hunting, bones - Freeform, relic hunting, this is where things start really changing from canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracophile/pseuds/Dracophile
Summary: Part 32 of The Casebook of Sloane LarsonRewrites of the rest of Key Move, Into the Schwarzwald, and a brief hint of Silence of the Slams!Though together at last, life isn't going to give Sloane and Nick time to process their new relationship. Nick and Monroe are off to Germany to find out what was hidden over 800 years ago--and Sloane meanwhile has to figure out how to stop an assassin in Portland. Nothing is ever as it first seems though and new faces both help and hinder them as they try to stop whatever darkness is on the horizon.
Relationships: Martin Meisner/Adalind Schade, Nick Burkhardt/Original Female Character(s), Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1061588
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	CoSL32: Keys to the Kingdom

**_“History often resembles myth, because they are both ultimately of the same stuff.”_ **

\----------------------

**Keys to the Kingdom**

\-----------------------

Nick woke up to the sun that morning. He sighed stretched slightly, pausing when he felt a weight at his side. Looking over, he saw Sloane sleeping cuddled up to his shoulder. The comforter was pulled up to her chest but he knew she was as bare as him under it. For a moment he was worried he’d feel awkward but realized he didn’t. Maybe things went a little fast but also they felt right.

He smiled and thought about how they first met. How she’d threatened Monroe and Rosalee, him, pretty much everyone. If someone had told them both at that time they’d be there now, how she’d evolve over the last couple of years, both of them would’ve thought they were insane. But this was the first time in a long time Nick felt good when he woke up. Not just rested—to be honest, he probably _wasn’t_ well rested—but at peace. Like he’d finally found a tether in a windstorm.

Sloane hummed and her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at him and he smiled and she smiled back. “Hey…”

“Hey…” They stared at one another before she chuckled and propped her chin on his shoulder. “What?”

“What?” he parroted back.

“You’re staring,” she said, smiling.

He blushed a little but kept smiling. “Just…You always seem so relaxed when you’re here. Even before, when you had those nightmares…”

She sighed and stretched out alongside him and _Oh, that feels nice,_ he thought. “I feel safe with you,” she admitted, relaxing again and he could feel her hand on his chest. “Like…before, I could never relax all the way. Not since I was a kid. I felt like I had to be on alert all the time training with Dierdre…and I with Collin it wasn’t relaxing either because he was just…awful.” Nick hugged her closer, rubbing along her side, and she smiled and stroked over his chest. “Then it was just me…sleep with one eye open and all that. But I don’t have to do that here. Because I know you’d have my back. That I’m safe to just…be. Here or me or both I guess.”

He smiled. “Always.” He leaned down, kissing her softly. Not meant to stoke the fires, just keep them warm.

They were a bit too engrossed in their making out though and didn’t hear the elevator come up. But they did hear the door open and Nick’s first instinct was to put himself between Sloane and the door, covering her up, before he even knew who was there.

“Nick, are you here—Oh my God!” Trubel gasped, quickly closing the door again.

“Trubel, what the hell?!” Nick said. “Knock! How many times did we go over this?!” Sloane was blushing deeply, staying tucked against Nick.

“What is it, what happened?” Nick heard Monroe’s voice.

“Uh…” Trubel said, still flustered.

Both Grimms groaned a bit and he looked down. “So…were we planning on telling them soon?”

“Honestly? Did not even think about it. Lotta other things on my mind…” She looked up at him, both of their faces red, before bursting into a fit of giggles with him.

“Guess it’s all going to come out now even if we didn’t plan it…” he said.

“We didn’t plan shit,” she laughed, trying to keep her voice down.

“Nick?” Monroe called, unsure.

“Just a sec…” he called. It was a few minutes before Nick slid the barn door of his bedroom open in a pair of pajama bottoms. Trubel, Monroe, Hank and Rosalee were all there. “Guys, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here all of a sudden?”

“We tried to call!” Monroe said. “Both you and Sloane—why were you phones down in the garage? We thought you’d been hurt or something!”

“Sorry, we forgot about those…” Nick said, rubbing over his neck.

“Your jackets were down there too,” Rosalee said, frowning worriedly.

Nick opened his mouth but Sloane spoke first. “There should be some shirts down there too.” Nick blushed and looked at her as she stepped out—dressed in one of his shirts and her jeans. Even with her muscular shoulders, it still hanged off of her in a way that if they didn’t have company he’d let entice him. She was blushing but smiled awkwardly. “Sort of forgot about them…”

Everyone’s jaws dropped, looking between both of them. “I…you…” Monroe started.

“Finally!” Hank said, throwing up his hands in triumph.

“What?” Sloane asked, not expecting that. Nick blushed and palmed his face.

“I have been telling his sorry butt to confess to you for _weeks_.”

Sloane looked at Nick, smiling in a way that said she wanted to laugh at him. “Oh really?”

“Not weeks…” Nick muttered.

“Weeks!” Hank said firmly.

“Weeks?” Monroe asked.

“Oh, this is so great!” Rosalee smiled, looking giddy. “I was trying to think how to get you two going!”

“Wait, you knew too?” Monroe said.

“Well, Adalind told me…” she admitted.

“Adalind knew?” all of them asked together.

“Yeah. She actually thought you two were already together…Just from observing you. And once I looked for it…I kind of thought maybe you hadn’t told us you were together?”

“No, nothing happened till last night,” Sloane blushed.

Nick blushed as well. “Everyone knew but us…”

“I didn’t know!” Monroe said. “I mean…this is good? You guys wanted this?”

They both looked at one another, and Sloane cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t…”

Nick smiled. “Yeah. Not exactly how I saw it happening but…” He put an arm around her shoulders, making her blush more but she left it.

“Wow…I’m happy for you but when—or how—” he floundered and looked at Trubel. “Did you know?”

Trubel blushed but shrugged. “I kind of thought it might happen. Just didn’t expect to walk in on them—”

“You didn’t walk in on anything,” Nick said quickly, blushing.

“You sure?”

“Okay, new subject!” Sloane said, everyone blushing now. “What are you all doing here?”

“Oh, right,” she sighed. “I gotta show you something!” Trubel held up a folder and then set it on the counter. She spread out several photos and a small pile of notes. “We got intel on a guy supposedly coming here to Portland. His name's Marwan Hanano.” She took out a photo of a man with dark hair and a beard, wearing fairly non-descript clothing as a blue sweater and a black coat. “He works for Black Claw. We don't know much about him, but we've connected him to a bombing in London, a riot in Kiev, and a building fire in Osaka, all in the last year. He arrived a few days ago at PDX on a flight that originated from Quito, Ecuador.”

“Okay…Why is he here?” Sloane said, looking at the picture as well. Hank took it when she handed it to him so they could all get a look.

“We don't know,” Trubel said, frowning. “We haven't been able to find him. This guy stays under the radar. Meisner thinks he might be here on assignment. Just wanted to let you know…And that's all we have on him, which, honestly, isn't much.”

Nick frowned at the small bits and looked at the others. Sloane could read the hesitation on his face and walked over. “Nick, either you go or I go. One stays, one gets to go treasure hunting.”

“I’ve got your passport ready though, I just have to pick them up,” Rosalee said. “And Wu got you and Monroe on the 8:55 p.m. flight to Stuttgart with one stop in Frankfurt.”

“And Stuttgart's only, like, a two-hour ride to Wolfach,” Monroe added.

Nick nodded and looked at her and Trubel and then at the others. “You can handle this, I know.”

“Of course we can,” Sloane said. She looked at Hank. “But we could use some extra help.”

“Yeah, I think the captain should know,” Hank said.

“Right…”

“Just…let me actually get dressed,” Sloane said, moving for the room. Nick blushed again and the others smiled.

\--------------------

“Is Marwan Hanano his real name or an alias?” Renard asked, looking at the photo.

“We don't know,” Nick sighed.

“How'd you get this information?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Meisner. He wanted us to be aware of it.”

“We got a Wesen terrorist, working for Black Claw, loose in Portland,” Hank said.

“We don't know where he is, what he wants, or who his contacts are,” Wu added. They’d filled him in on the way to the precinct over the phone.

“And he’s known for some big “demonstrations” we’ll say,” Sloane said.

He nodded. “I'm assuming Meisner wants us to find him so H.W. can deal with him.”

“Basically, yeah,” Nick said.

He sighed, thinking a moment before nodding again. “All right, put out an APB but strictly a find and follow. Do not engage. Report contact only.” He looked at them meaningfully and they all nodded in agreement. “You know how to contact Meisner?”

“We do,” Sloane said.

“Let's find this guy,” he said, tossing the photo with the others on his desk.

“Yes, sir,” Wu said, heading out with Hank back into the bull pen. Sloane stayed at the door, waiting for Nick, but he stalled by Renard’s desk.

“Hey, look, I'm gonna be off the grid for a couple of days,” Nick said. Not asking permission, just informing him.

Renard looked up, curious. “Anything I need to know?”

Nick hesitated. He knew that Renard had wanted the keys. Wanted what they led to, whatever it was. Enough so that he nearly had his aunt killed. He still didn’t feel like he could trust him completely. “It’s a family thing,” he said finally. “Kind of private.”

“…Okay. I guess have a safe trip?”

“…Thanks,” he nodded, heading out with Sloane.

“Still don’t trust him?” she asked quietly when they were far enough away.

“Not entirely,” he sighed. “I want to know what this is before we go telling other people about it. Plus he wanted the keys pretty badly before.”

“Probably a good call,” Sloane nodded.

“So what is the charge on this Marwan guy for the APB?” Wu asked.

“Murder suspect. Keep it local. Don't let the Feds in on this one,” Nick said. He looked at his watch, frowning at it already being nearly 5. “I’m sorry I gotta run out on this and leave you guys with it…”

“We got you,” Hank said.

He smiled and sighed. “I gotta get back to packing…” He glanced at Sloane.

Hank followed his gaze and nodded to her. “Yeah, and Sloane should help I think.”

“Help?” Wu asked.

“Yeah, I’ll…help,” Sloane said, blushing as she followed Nick towards the door.

“Hey, Nick!” They looked back and Hank smiled as reassuringly as he could. “You be careful over there.”

“What he said!” Wu agreed.

Nick smiled. “Will do.”

They headed back to the loft and Nick quickly packed a carry-on duffle bag with some extra clothes and the essentials. Sloane watched mostly since he did have it covered. He noticed her fidgeting a little and sat next to her on the bed after zipping up the duffle. “Hey…you okay?”

“…I…I’m scared,” she admitted softly. She looked at him and he could see it in her eyes. “Nick, I try really hard to protect you and Rosalee and the others because…because nothing good in my life stays. I always lose it somehow. And now you’re going across the ocean, without me, where I can’t protect you and I…”

“Hey, hey,” he pulled her in, kissing her temple and rubbing over her back. “I’m going to be okay. I’m pretty capable, right?”

“Yes, you are, I know that, but I still…” she said, sighing at trying to get the words out.

“I promised you,” he said, still soothing.

“I know…” she sighed, releasing some of her tension.

“…Uh…There’s something I wanted to say before…” She looked up and he took a breath. “I don’t want you to move out. That is…I’d like you to formally move in. As in this is your place too. For the foreseeable future.”

Sloane blinked. “I…Wait, for real?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it might be a little fast but I don’t…want to miss anything. Plus I like living with you…We do it pretty well. I like having you here to come home to or vice versa.”

She smiled slowly and leaned against him. “Yeah…I like that too. My heart really wasn’t in looking at places to live anyway,” she admitted. Nick breathed out in relief and kissed her gently. He pulled back, eyeing her a little, and she smirked. “Don’t get any ideas if you want to get to that plane on time…”

“Do I have time for a cold shower then?” he asked, drawing his finger down her spine with a slight tease.

Sloane grabbed a pillow and smacked him lightly, both of them laughing. Getting his things, they headed down and she drove him to Monroe and Rosalee’s so he could leave his car at home. She walked up with him and Rosalee answered the door.

“Hey, come on in. He's almost ready,” Rosalee said. They both walked in and she closed the door again behind them. “I did a little more research on those churches near Wolfach in the Black Forest. There are ten all together, but only three of those are Catholic.”

“And it has to be Catholic,” Monroe said, coming down the stairs with his own bag and a travel neck pillow already around his neck. “Because Martin Luther didn't nail his "Ninety-Five Theses" onto the door of the All-Saints Church in Wittenberg until October 31, 1517. So all the other churches are way too young.”

“Well, then those are what we'll start with,” Nick nodded.

“Oh, and I have your passports,” Rosalee said, grabbing them from the side table and handing them to both of the men.

“I'm traveling under my uncle's name, Felix Ackerman,” Monroe sighed.

“…You don’t think that might be dangerous? I mean, with Black Claw having looked for him?” Sloane asked, uncertain.

“They already killed him; I doubt they’d be looking for him again…”

“Fair enough…sorry,” she nodded.

“And you're traveling under my brother's name, Frederick Calvert,” Rosalee said to Nick.

He opened the passport to take a look, noting the quality of it. “This is really good…for something completely illegal,” he added, not wanting to completely drop his cop mentality in the garbage.

“Yeah, your contacts do good work,” Sloane said with a nod of approval.

“Thanks,” Rosalee said.

“So we’re not flying the friendly skies with the Fløyelshorn again?” she asked. The last couple of times any of them had flown round trip had been with Clint, the reindeer-wesen pilot. Once in getting a rare ingredient, and another in the others mounting a rescue mission to Idaho for her and Trubel.

“Ah, no. We’re flying commercial,” Monroe said firmly. “I’m not going up in that flying orange crate ever again.”

“Also, there’s no way his plane would make a trans-Atlantic flight,” Rosalee said.

“Well, guess we should hit it,” Monroe said. He grabbed his coat from the peg behind Rosalee and paused, looking down at her. She looked back up at him with an equally worried expression.

“We’ll just put that stuff in the car for you,” Nick said, reading the atmosphere. He handed Sloane the neck pillow and grabbed the small suitcase as he led her out the door to give them some privacy.

 _…I should’ve guessed I’m not the only one worried,_ Sloane thought.

After they said their goodbyes, Sloane dropped them off at the airport. They’d work out getting home when they hopefully came back triumphant. Nick had Sloane roll down the window just before he headed into the terminal. “What do you want for a souvenir?”

She smiled at his teasing grin. “I want you home in one piece.”

“And you’ll get that. But seriously, I want to get you something.”

Sloane sighed and then paused and grabbed a notepad from her glove compartment and then pulled up a note on her phone. “There is one thing actually…On your way, I saw there’s another town called Freudenstadt on your route.” She handed him the note. “It’s where Leo lives. The guy who works on a lot of Grimm weapons.”

Nick was surprised and took it. “Really?”

“Yeah, he’s stayed there the last few years. This is his address. I’d like a new knife…”

“…You think I can get that through customs?” he joked.

She smiled back. “He’ll take care of that. You might need his help with whatever you find too. Seeing him in person works best if I don’t want to wait another year like we did for the Gelumcaedus blades.”

“Alright…you trust me to pick it out for you?” he asked, knowing that might be a rather personal purchase.

“I do,” she smiled. “I’ll pay you back if it’s too much…”

He smiled back and then leaned in to kiss her. She blushed, glancing around a bit and he chuckled ruefully. “We didn’t discuss PDA…”

“…Give me a bit to get used it?” she asked sheepishly. Nick smiled warmly. He hadn’t expected her to be rather cute about all of this.

“Can you do that later?” Monroe said, looking at his watch.

“Right! I’ll call you later!” Nick said, heading with Monroe to the doors.

Sloane sighed but pulled away and headed back into town. She knew it was going to feel cold sleeping alone tonight… _Would it be weird to sleep in his bed without him? I mean, he asked me to move but we haven’t really gone over how that all is going to work…_

\-------------------

Things got complicated fast.

Hank and Wu had put out the APB for Marwan the day before and later that morning they’d gotten word some bike cops had spotted someone that matched the description. One had called it in while the other followed the man—and had been found later bloodied and talking about a monster attacking him. Though they searched the area, they couldn’t find Marwan or any other sign of something going down.

“Why would he be here?” Sloane asked, looking around at the apartments and other buildings.

“I don’t know… maybe he was on his way somewhere?” Hank said.

“Then why attack a cop? He could’ve just kept going. He’s a pro, he’d be able to lose him. He’d only stick around if he had to I’m sure…”

“Maybe he was meeting someone?” Wu guessed.

“Possibly…” She sighed. “Why don’t you guys go see if you can talk to Officer Fogel?”

“What are you going to do?” Hank asked.

“Walk around a bit, try and figure out what an international terrorist is doing here in Portland. Get into his head maybe. I’m the closest to knowing what he’s like I think I can do it…”

“Well don’t stay there, it’s probably a bad place to be,” Wu said.

They headed back to the car and Sloane started walking the streets, looking around for what could attract a guy who planned bombings and riots. She paused as she passed a nearby park when blue and red banners caught her attention. _Dixon 2016_ was written across them and she walked over. A small crowd was already gathering, with more filtering in. She scanned the faces but didn’t see Marwan among them.

“Sloane?”

She paused and looked up. “Captain?”

He stepped down from the stage at the nearby steps and walked over. “I thought you were looking for that…man.”

“I am. He attacked an officer near here,” she said quietly.

“He what?” Renard asked, tense.

“Yeah. A bike cop. Wu and Hank went to see if he was coherent, but his partner said he was saying a “monster” attacked him.”

Renard sighed and pinched his brow. “Great…He’s alive though?”

“Well, he’d have everyone looking for him if he was dead,” Sloane pointed out.

“True…”

Sloane looked up at the banner. “This is your friend, right? The guy running for Mayor?”

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“How do you know this guy anyway?”

“College friends. We both had a competitive streak, fought over being captain of the debate team.”

“…Oh my God…Captain, were you…a nerd?” she whispered scandalously.

“No comment,” he said, though his lips twitched a little.

“So who won?”

“I won the first year, then he won the second.”

“And you’re still friends?”

“I voted for him that second year too. Andrew’s a good man. He wants to help people, genuinely. I got us to nationals, but he got us the trophy. Be good and a good leader is kind of a rarity nowadays, especially for a politician.”

“Good point…so what are you doing out here?”

“I’m introducing him. His team have been very keen I help with the campaign.”

Sloane quirked a brow and glanced up at the stage. The expression turned to a scowl when she saw the red-head who had flirted with Nick at the precinct—the one that put her card right into his pants pocket. “That… Rachel woman is one of them?”

Renard cleared his throat slightly. “Yes, she is…why, you know her?”

“We met, briefly. She didn’t make a good impression on me,” she said.

“She’s fine, really,” he said.

“Not when she’s brazenly flirting with Nick she’s not…”

Renard blinked. “…Brazenly flirting?”

“You heard me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but it’s what it was!”

“…I see…”

Sloane looked at him, then back at her, then at him again. “…Oh Captain…”

He tensed and looked at her. “What…?”

“I’ve seen that look before. You’re sleeping with her.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, blustering a little.

“Uh huh. Try that line again, but be convincing this time.”

He frowned at her. “This is a bit of insubordination…”

“Oh, right, I’m still on the clock,” she said, clicking her tongue. “…Hey, when’s this thing supposed to start?”

“In a few minutes. Why?”

“…Can you cancel it?”

“What?” he asked, alert now. “Why would we?”

“Because I’m wondering if our friend is going to target someone here…It’s the only thing with a large crowd gathering. And if he’d killed that officer it would’ve definitely been canceled so…”

Renard frowned, looking around. “…Rachael?”

She looked up and walked over, pausing when she saw Sloane. “Uh…Yes?”

“My detectives have been tracking a criminal. A very dangerous one they think might be attracted to this crowd and could hurt someone.”

She looked surprised but then smiled as if she didn’t believe them. “Oh? Well, we haven’t received any threats.”

“Neither did the last couple of places he targeted,” Sloane said. “He’s been known to cause a lot of unrest and kill people. Could this be postponed or something?”

She pursed her lips and then shook her head. “We only have the park for today! This is really important to Andrew; he wants to hold an easy-going little rally. Grassroots and all that. We can’t cancel or it would send the wrong message.”

“Wouldn’t putting people in danger send a _worse_ message?” Sloane said, gritting her teeth.

She looked at Sean. “Sean, please, if we cancel we might not recover. Andrew’s nearly here, I don’t want to tell him it’s off or scare him. Besides, we finally started gaining on Gallagher after the news this morning of his previous drug bust. We need to keep moving on this momentum,” she said, stressing her words.

Renard looked torn a moment before sighing and looking at Sloane. “If we cancel, it might alert him. We’d have trouble locating him again and he might find another opportunity if that’s the case.”

She flattened her gaze at him. “You make a point, but I’m not sure I like _why._ ”

“You don’t think you can find him?” he shot back.

She glared but then sighed and threw up her hands. “Okay…I’m calling Hank and Wu back then. This guy’s had different methods, we’ll look around for him and anything he might’ve set up.”

“Right. Try to be subtle. We don’t want to cause a panic if we can help it, that could make things worse.”

“Yes, please don’t do that,” Rachael said.

She nodded and pulled out her phone to dial Hank as she walked around the side of the stage. “Sloane! I was just about to call, we’re on our way back to you, we think that Marwan might target Dixon’s rally!”

She smiled a bit, going to look under the stage. “We’re on the same wavelength then. I’m here looking for anything suspect. No bomb under the stage…How soon will you be here?”

“Just another few minutes. Can you stop the rally?”

“There’s already a crowd gathered. Renard doesn’t want to cause a panic and they’re about to start.”

“Okay. We’ll try to be subtle I guess. Wish we could get some more people…”

“I’ll text Trubel, see if we can get some HW guys.”

“Do that, yeah. Be there soon.”

Sloane nodded and hanged up, firing off a quick text to Trubel.

“Is something wrong?” She put her phone away and looked up to see the man she saw next to Rachael, shorter with dark hair and glasses, looking down at her.

“Just checking the stage…”

“You know a lot about stages?” he asked dubiously.

She smiled demurely. “I have many skills. But mostly I thought I saw someone crawl under. Call it the detective in me, had to make sure. But I don’t see them.”

“It was probably one of the technicians making sure the wiring was fine,” the man said.

“You’re probably right…”

“Maybe I should call security?”

She eyed him and then held open her jacket to flash her badge. “Go right ahead, Mr….”

He flushed a little but huffed. “Jeremiah Rogers. I’m one of Dixon’s Campaign Advisors.”

“Ah, that’s why you work so close with Ms. Wood,” she said.

“Yes. I’m Rachael’s right hand,” he said, a tad smugly.

“Uh huh…well, I’m sure she’s told you to be ready for any problems then.”

“Problems?”

“Ask her,” she said, pulling her phone out when she felt it buzz and walking back around to the front.

_Trubel: On our way!_

\------------------

“You sure we got time for this?” Monroe asked, looking at the small street signs. Freudenstadt was a beautiful old town full of whitewashed buildings and houses with red and brown beavertail clay tiles. Many were half-timbered, with the parts of the stained wooden frame visible from the outside, that reminded Nick of medieval fairs and movies. Others were bricked construction with smooth even colors aside from the highlights around archways, doors and windows.

“We’re passing through anyway. Plus he might be able to help us. What if what we find is like…a sword or something?”

“What, like thy hid Excalibur in Bavaria?” he chuckled. “…That would be so cool,” he added under his breath.

Nick couldn’t disagree. Monroe turned down one street and drove to the edge of the city. There they found a tiny farm then found a place to park. “You want to come in?”

“You think that’s a good idea? I mean this guy’s a Grimm…Blacksmith, right?”

“Sloane didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Monroe pursed his lips but ultimately unbuckled and quickly followed him up to the small house. Nick knocked on the door and waited. When there was no answer he glanced at Monroe and then knocked again. “Hello? Uh…Leo?”

There was the sound of movement now and Nick thought he heard a cross bow being loaded. “Who is it?” an unsure sing-song voice asked.

“Uh, my name is Nick Burkhardt. I’m a Grimm. And a friend of Sloane Larson.”

“Bit more than that,” Monroe stage whispered. Nick nudged him, blushing faintly.

There was a pause and the door opened. A man with tanned skin and large brown eyes looked them over. He was wearing a long leather apron stained with soot, grease and other signs of hard work. Though wiry, he had some very obvious muscle to him and Nick had no doubt he was strong. “…You’re Kelly Kessler’s son?”

“Yeah, I am.”

He smiled and opened the door wider. “Well! I wasn’t expecting visitors! Come in!” He moved to set the crossbow in his hand on the table by the door, but it fired and stuck in the door jamb near Nick. Nick jumped, almost knocking Monroe. “Oh! Whoops, sorry about that,” he laughed, reaching up and pulling it with some effort from the wood while Nick watched with crossed eyes and Monroe held him as if ready to pick him up and run. “Bianca has a hair trigger.”

“…Bianca?” Monroe asked.

“Long story,” he said. “Come in, come in. Usually people just stop by the library in Frankfurt and contact me there. I got a little antsy, always a bit worried who might come asking questions.”

Nick moved in slowly, with caution at first but then in amazement. The walls were lined with wracks and tables of weapons of all sorts—some he recognized from his own collection and some he’d never seen. It made him a little wistful thinking about what was still lost. “Did you…make all this?”

“Yes! Well, made or repaired. I’ve always loved weapons and gadgets. My father was a Grimm artificer as well. My grandfather actually helped come up with some of the weapons—including that Gelumcaedus blade you sent! I was so happy to see that, the plans had been lost for decades and now I have them redrawn and saved. It’s such a relief.” He was all smiles now and Nick relaxed slightly.

“You’re welcome,” Nick said. “Um, Sloane actually asked me to come and find a new knife for her.”

He paused in straightening a few weapons and looked at him. “A new knife? Something happened to her old one?”

“It was stolen,” Monroe said. “By Dierdre.”

“Oh…oh dear, that’s some…family drama,” he said, grimacing. “I don’t like Dierdre.”

“You got good taste then,” Nick said.

He smiled and shrugged. “Well…it was mostly her mentor I really didn’t like. He used to make snide comments about my father. We’re not Grimms after all.”

“So wait, you do all this just because?” Monroe asked.

“No, not just because! Grimms have always been very keen on innovation. Well, as far as weaponry that is…” he amended. “We got into business together back in my great, great Grandfather’s time. It’s been a kind of family tradition. My brother works as well in America…somewhere, I don’t remember,” he laughed. “But here, I have a lot of knives.” He went over and opened up the top of a table, showing dozens of knives of different designs, makes, and materials. “I’ve got Tantos, Reverse Tantos, Drop Points, Bowies, Clip Points—”

“Um, I think probably a hunting knife similar to her old one…” Nick said.

“Right, that would be best…I only ever saw it so I can’t really judge the weight or balance but as far as size…” He pulled out a few. “These are all a similar design and size.”

“That’s still a lot,” Nick sighed, looking them over.

“Did she give you any specifics?”

“No, she said she trusted me to pick it out.”

Leo looked surprised. “Really…Are you married?”

Nick spluttered and looked at him. “What?!”

“Oh, just usually that’s a very intimate choice. At least in my book.”

“…we are not married.”

“They’re just living together,” Monroe said, looking over some brass knuckles curiously. They looked like a wolf running over his knuckles.

“It’s a recent thing,” Nick said quickly.

“Ah, gotcha, not that stage yet,” he nodded solemnly. “Well, she trusts you with that choice. No pressure, but this will be like her right hand so make it a good one.”

“No pressure, huh?” Nick muttered. He looked at them all, trying to judge them the way Sloane would. He nixed a few on looks—one with a rainbow looking blade, others with similar patterned blades. Too showy. He decided no on some of the handles too, he didn’t think she’d like some of the wooden ones. Taking those out, he had about four to choose from. He picked up the first—bright steel with a deeply stained mahogany handle. It felt nice to him but he didn’t think Sloane’s hands would like it since they were a little smaller. The next had a larger, more curved blade that felt too heavy when he moved it around. Setting it down, he paused and picked up another. This one was interesting. It was all black.

“Ah, I’m proud of that one,” Leo said. “Black stainless steel, woven leather around the hilt with a bit of a tail for a lead. The black is great for hunting at night because it’s less reflective. It’s a tactical knife with a saw blade edge as well,” he pointed to the ridged edge on the other side of the blade. “All my knives are sharpened perfectly so they won’t need maintenance for several years as well. Unless you’re like cutting trees with them, in which case I would personally sharpen them on you.”

Nick had a feeling he wasn’t kidding but looked it over and slashed it a few times. It felt good. The handle didn’t have too much bulk so he was sure Sloane would be able to use it fine. It felt well-made and balanced and nothing was hitting where it shouldn’t. Plus, the stealth aspect was something he thought she’d like. “…Could I ask for a bit of customizing?”

“Like what?” he asked.

Nick pointed to where the _G_ had been engraved on her old blade. “Could you engrave an _S_ here?”

“S? Her old one had a _G_ , didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I want this one to be all hers,” Nick said.

Leo smiled widely and took it. “Well, how do I say no to that? I’ll get that done real quick. You guys want to stick around?”

“We kind of have something we need to do,” Monroe said, looking at his watch.

“No problem, you can pick it up later. I’ll give you a discount, since I owe you both for letting me see that Gelumcaedus blade.”

“I appreciate it,” Nick smiled. “We’ll be by in a day or two to head back to the US—can you help us through customs?”

“You didn’t coordinate through the library?” he asked, surprised. “They can send packages between each other a lot easier.”

“Uh…Our closest library was closed,” he said. “Our librarian left.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. You know it’s a dying skill. But many now Grimms will learn they need their support system! No offense.”

“None taken,” Nick said. “I agree. Actually…I think they said they found one, they just haven’t arrived…”

“Well, that’s good at least. But just in case, I’ll get you some “nondescript” packaging,” he said.

“We might need that for something else…if possible,” Monroe said.

“Sure. Bring whatever it is with you and I’ll figure out what’ll work.”

“Thanks. You know, I kind of thought with the whole nearly hitting us with an arrow thing you’d be a lot more…like paranoid?”

“Oh, I definitely am,” he said, smiling. “But you’re Grimms so I’m not worried. It’s people and Wesen I don’t like much…”

“…Good to know…wait, people?” Monroe asked.

“Oh yeah. People in general are just as dangerous. I’ve had people try and break in to steal things plenty of times. It’s why I like living further outside of town.”

“Less chance of them breaking in?” Nick asked.

“Less chance of people hearing what happens to them.”

Nick and Monroe froze and smiled a bit more awkwardly. “Oh…good point.”

Leo just smiled.

\----------------

Sloane didn’t find anything scanning the rest of the crowd, and Hank and Wu didn’t find anything either. They stopped a few people with backpacks and large bags they asked to search as a “security precaution”, but nothing suspect was coming through and they all said they packed them themselves.

Renard tried to stall for a little while but got up to the podium to introduce Dixon. He kept an eye on them as they moved but kept a smile on his face and spoke slowly and clearly. Sloane gave it to him; he knew how to keep a cool head under stress. But soon enough Dixon stepped forward and started speaking.

“Got anything?” Hank asked, meeting up with her and Wu at the edge of the crowd.

“Nothing,” Wu sighed. “Maybe we’re wrong?”

“I’m not making that call till this is over,” Sloane sighed. Her phone rang and she answered it quickly.

“Trubel?”

“Hey, yeah, we’re here!”

“Great. But we haven’t found anything…”

“That’s because he changed his look,” she said. “We caught surveillance of him earlier with facial recognition but he shaved and dyed his hair. I’ll send a pic.”

“Facial recognition?”

“Yeah, we got a lot of crazy stuff. But we saw him in the area earlier on a bike.”

“Why would he be on a bike?” she pondered. She looked at her phone when the photo came through and pulled it up. The man was a lot harder to recognize with bleach blonde hair and clean shaven but she was still sure they hadn’t seen him in the crowd.

“So he figured out we knew what he looked like,” Hank said, “But I still haven’t seen him.”

She put the phone on speaker. “Trubel, you said you caught this picture of him in the area?”

“Yeah! Security camera near some apartments. We’re heading your way.”

“…What apartments?”

“Huh? Uh…Donalbain?”

“Donalbain…?” She looked over to the building right at the edge of the park. That was part of those apartments. “…Go to the archway near the platform!” She quickly started for it, Hank and Wu behind her.

“Sloane? What’s going on?” Wu asked.

“This guy changed his look but isn’t in the crowd. In the picture he has a bike, but no one here does.”

“He probably stole it to blend in.”

“Walking is a lot more inconspicuous and he wouldn’t have to deal with walking it around the crowds here. He must’ve gotten it for a reason. But more than that, if he’s not here, he must be nearby and the apartments would give him the best cover.”

“She’s right,” Hank said, jogging faster with her. Under the arch they saw Trubel, Meisner and a man and woman they hadn’t met jog up as well.

“We heard your explanation. You think he’s here in the building?” Meisner asked.

Sloane ended the call and put her phone away. “I think it’s the most logical place. Inside an apartment he’d be a lot more hidden. But we didn’t find any explosives or other devices in the crowd.”

“We searched the stage, trash-cans, people’s bags—started instructing security to look too. But nothing,” Hank said.

Meisner frowned and then stood straighter. “You mentioned the bike…that he wouldn’t keep that without a reason?”

“I mean, that’s what I think. I’ve had to blend into plenty of crowds before and after taking someone out and bringing along something as big as a bike when no one else has one is guarantees more attention rather than less.”

“And I haven’t seen any bikes like that chained up,” Wu added, looking at the picture again on Trubel’s phone. “Kind of looks weird actually when you really look at it…”

“That’s because it’s not a bike,” Meisner said, pacing. “Bikes have been used to smuggle dozens of things before. Including parts to make a gun.”

“A sniper-rifle?” the other woman gasped.

“Whoa, sniper rifle?” Wu said, eyes wide. “We were thinking like that bomb you mentioned or a gas thing like last month!”

“He switches his MO pretty often. Causing chaos is his goal, not the way he causes it,”

“We’ve had similar bikes,” Meisner nodded. “But they aren’t accurate at long distances—the parts can only be made so large and it ends up sacrificing power for stealth. We need to know who he’s targeting!”

“What kind of power are we talking?” Hank asked.

“Mmm…likely less than 600 meters since it won’t have the same firepower as a regular rifle…”

“That’s…a little over 200 feet? That doesn’t narrow it down,” Wu said.

“Yes it does—he’d have to be higher up and there’s apartment buildings on either side of here,” Hank said. “He’d need to be higher up so he’s probably in one of them!”

They stepped out from the archway, looking around. Dixon was giving a rousing speech about his hopes to better distribute wealth in the city and look out for everyone rather than just a select few. But they couldn’t appreciate the positive message as they scanned the area. A few people were out on their balconies to listen but many more looked closed.

“We don’t even know where he’s aiming,” Trubel growled.

“…My bet is the stage,” Sloane said. “The crowd is too densely packed to get a good shot…”

“You think Dixon is the target?” Meisner asked.

“He’s the only one that makes any sense right now, though I have no idea why Black Claw would target him!” she growled.

Meisner frowned and looked at the others. “Susannah, Trubel, Morrison, go floor by floor and start causing a ruckus. See if we can distract and flush him out.”

“Got it!” They said, rushing back to the door inside.

Hank looked at Sloane as she scanned the apartments while walking closer to the stage. “Should we tell them to stop?”

“He might take the shot before we can get them to listen…”

“Well Dixon’s wrapping up his speech,” Wu hissed.

Sloane cursed that the man wasn’t as long winded as other politicians and listened with half an ear as she kept scanning the windows for any kind of sign. She vaguely noted Rachel getting a call and backing away but that didn’t seem important at the moment. “…As your next mayor, I will make Portland a city that shines as an example of what can be accomplished when people are given the opportunity to truly succeed, and that success, real success, will come from the genuine desire to see your neighbors, as well as yourselves, thrive. Portland is a great place. I say we work together to make it even greater.”

The crowd cheered and Dixon stepped back and waved. He was a sitting duck, fully exposed, and she felt a shiver come over her. Sloane gritted her teeth and then cupped her hands over her mouth. “CAPTAIN, DIXON, DUCK AND COVER! SNIPER!”

Everyone looked at her a moment in shock and confusion, but Renard thankfully had quick reflexes. The moment he heard her, he leapt forward and grabbed Dixon by the shoulders. A shot rang out and there were several screams. Including one from Dixon as the bullet entered his hip. If Renard hadn’t grabbed him and pulled him to the side though, it would’ve likely entered his side right into his liver or kidney’s and he’d have bled out in seconds. As it was, Renard was putting pressure on it with his jacket and yelling to call an ambulance.

“Shit!” Hank cursed as the crowd started stampeding away, screaming in panic. He and Wu tried to keep them from trampling each other while Meisner was shouting into the walkie he had on him to cover the exits.

Sloane’s eyes honed in on one window though, where she was certain the bullet came from. Something moved behind the blinds of the balcony six stories balcony window. Glaring, she ran for the building and jumped the first-floor railing and went through the open door. She had to put a hand on it to keep it open as the man was trying to close it after the panic but she made it in. People inside shouted in surprise but ran for the door and got out to the hall, heading for the stairway. She was on the second floor when Hank and Wu came in, several other officers following them. “Sloane?!”

“Sixth floor!” she shouted down, not slowing. They got to the sixth floor and she counted down till she got to the right apartment and kicked in the door with little issue. She cursed when she found the body of a man just to the side of the doorway, his throat torn out. _Too clean for fangs…a beak? Some kind of bird?_ She drew her gun and cleared the area, cursing and going back out to look down the halls. Hank and Wu caught up then. “Shooter fled the scene. We got a body, probably the tenant, and parts of the bike.”

“He’s gone?” Wu said, panting a little. He envied Sloane’s stamina.

“He’s not sticking around. Do we have coverage outside?”

“Yes ma’am!” one officer said. “We left officers at the entrances and exits.”

“But then where is he?” she growled.

They looked up when a door opened and a man and woman looked out. “What’s…going on?”

“Please stay inside your apartment,” Hank said.

“Wait,” Sloane stepped forward. “Besides the elevator and the stairwell that way, is there another way get up the floors?”

“Uh…yeah, there’s another stairwell over there.” She pointed. “They made one at either end.”

“Dammit!” she cursed and took off again.

“Sloane! We have the exits covered!”

“I don’t think he’s going down!” _They always head to the roof for some reason…_ She got to the stairwell and headed upwards.

\------------------------

Nick and Monroe got to Wolfach in the mid-afternoon after leaving Freudenstadt and Leo. The town was just as picturesque, the buildings keeping that old-world charm just as well with only a few new construction areas. They were driving slowly through the town, trying to find the church.

“…So…you and Sloane?” Monroe said. They’d talked about other things on the way but this was the first he brought that up.

Nick glanced at him the streets he was maneuvering through and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. I mean, I just…was surprised I guess? I mean, I didn’t know you two were…were you trying to keep it secret?”

“No—well…We never really got a chance to discuss it,” Nick sighed. “That was the first time we…”

“Oh! So you guys weren’t secretly dating this whole time?”

“No, no, we weren’t,” he said, blushing.

“So it was spur of the moment?”

“…Not…exactly…”

Monroe frowned. “You lost me.”

Nick sighed and danced is fingers along the wheel. “I…didn’t intent for it to happen how it did, but I wanted it to happen.”

“…Oh…Oh! Well, great! I mean, I thought it was great already, I just was surprised. Felt like I was the only one who was…”

“…Hank heard me tell Eve that I had a crush on Sloane,” Nick said awkwardly. “That’s the only reason he knew…and he was trying really hard to have me confess.”

Monroe smiled. “Hank was playing cupid?”

“Hank was trying. Kept pushing me, kept trying to get us alone together, all that. It was embarrassing and nerve-wracking, though I appreciated the thought.”

“You were nervous?”

“Well…yeah. I mean, I hadn’t put myself out there like that in almost a decade, since Juliette and I got together.”

“No, yeah, that would be intimidating. I was a wreck asking Rosalee to do…anything with me when we first met,” he said wistfully. “Not knowing how they feel, if they’ll say yes, that’s pretty freaky.”

“Yeah…I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have been that hesitant since she said she loved me before…”

“Yeah, if she already said it—Hold on, what?!”

“…It was in the dream world,” Nick blushed.

“The dream world? When you went into her head to wake her up?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She dreamed…well, that we were together. I had never even thought about her like that so it was kind of a shock. She told me how she felt, then feigned not remembering when she woke up. Because I…told her I still loved Juliette.”

“Ouch…”

“It was true at the time,” Nick sighed. “Obviously far from how I feel now. Then I lost her and…God, thinking she might be dead…” he said quietly, looking haunted thinking about it.

Monroe reached up and set a hand on his shoulder. “You realized what you lost before you knew you wanted it, huh?”

“…Yeah. Then I got her back and I was scared she’d stopped having those feelings. Scared I’d lose her again in a whole different way.”

“…You love her? Like, you’re in love with her?” Monroe asked, sounding honestly curious.

“…Yeah. I told her so. And she said it back,” he said, smiling. “I didn’t do that intending to sleep together so quickly though,” he added, blowing out a breath.

“Not getting cold feet?”

“No, never,” he said. “Just…we’re doing things out of order. I asked her to stay moved in, and she agreed, but now I’m not sure what’s going to happen…”

Monroe arched his brow. “Out of order? No such thing.” Nick looked at him. “Look, the order has been different in cultures and time periods and all that. Arranged marriages? You’d be married before you met the other person sometimes. Used to be no living together, no sex or anything before marriage, or so they say. All that talk about chastity and stuff—I mean, some still do but I think you gotta make sure your compatible with someone before you decide to spend your whole life with them. Plenty of people I know have had one-night stands turn into marriage—or kids then marriage for some. I think you just gotta…throw that idea that “you go in this order or it’s not a relationship” out the window. Whatever path it took to get you two to where you’re happy together will work. Just keep doing what feels right.”

“…Thanks, Monroe,” Nick smiled. He honestly felt a lot better hearing that. He glanced up and slowed when he saw a tall white steeple with a bell tower and a clock trimmed in dark wood. “That's the church.”

Monroe leaned down to look better and nodded when he checked the printout he’d made. “Yeah, I think it is…Make a left.” Nick turned quickly, heading to the parking nearest to the church. Monroe compared the information again. “Well, this is the closest Catholic church to what's on the map. Looks kind of newer than I expected.”

Nick shrugged. “Well, they've obviously done a few renovations.”

“Well, if they've done renovations, they might have already found what we're looking for,” Monroe pointed out.

Nick sighed but they grabbed their jackets and climbed out to go inside. The bells were chiming as they did and it was rather pretty, but neither of them were religious enough to feel the spirituality of the moment. They went through the first set of large oak doors—carved with scenes from the bible—to the foyer. No one was there so they continued to the simpler wooden doors into the main cathedral. It was dimly lit with only a few overhead chandeliers along the side converted to electric candle lights, and the multitude of real candles in candelabras and the votive candles burning in red glass holders. Sunlight was shaded and filtered through the beautifully crafted stained-glass windows running along the side. At the far end from the door was the altar, and behind that against the wall was a large pipe organ. Between them was a couple dozen rows of handcrafted pews with an aisle going between them.

“Let's see if there's someone to talk to,” Nick said, keeping his voice low and respectful.

They started up the aisle and Monroe looked around anxiously. “Oh, man, empty churches really give me the creeps. I always feel like I'm being observed by someone who's not really there.” He attempted the sign of the cross, but gave up when he realized he didn’t really know how to do it properly. Nick glanced at him with a quirked brow. “Hey, you never know.” They continued down the long aisle and he kept looking around. “Well, I'll tell you one thing, if this church was originally built in the 13th century, whatever we're looking for has got to be underneath, because this is way too new…”

They paused when they heard a squeaking noise. It sounded like someone rubbing something very shiny, the sort of hollow squeak. Getting to the end, they looked over to see a man cleaning the polished wooden divide between the nave and the altar. Monroe smiled in a friendly way, ready to converse. “Hallo?” The man didn’t turn to look at them, continuing to clean. “Bitte?” he tried again, a little louder.

“I don't think he can hear you,” Nick said.

“Hallo. Hallo?” Monroe gently set a hand on the man’s shoulder, but it was like a spark on a fuse. He jumped with a shriek, dropping the rag he was using and nearly knocking over the bucket of soapy water. He woged then in shock, turning into Ungeziefer Greifer—a sort of weasel wesen Nick vaguely remembered from a book.

They locked eyes for just a second but that was enough. The man scrambled back as though he’d seen death himself and jumped to his feet. “Ein Grimm. Ein Grimm!” he yelled, running for the door at the side of the alter.

Monroe looked at Nick, both of them surprised. “He just totally made you as a Grimm…”

“So much for subtlety…” he sighed.

They looked up when they heard footsteps coming towards them from that same doorway. A priest came out, sighing when he saw them. He was older, with a gentlemanly way of carrying himself. “I am so sorry. Did Gottlob startle you?” he asked, walking towards them. “He is a dedicated sacristan, but he cannot hear anything and he frightens easily.” He looked between the two of them and smiled quizzically. “You are Americans, yeah?”

“Yes, I'm Nick—” Monroe cleared his throat and Nick quickly corrected himself. “Frederick Calvert.”

“Felix Dietrich. Wie ghet es ihnen,” Monroe said, shaking his hand.

“Ahh, sie sprechen Deutsch,” the priest said with a smile.

Monroe smiled but then shrugged a little. “Ein kleines bisschen. But English is easier.”

He nodded, unperturbed, “So English it is. Well, I am Father Eickholt, the head priest of St. Laurentius. The only priest if I am being more honest. How can I help you? Are you here for confession, or just to look?”

“We're just checking out the sights of Wolfach, looking at some of the old architecture in the Black Forest,” Nick said, trying to seem just an affable tourist.

“With a particular interest in some of the older churches,” Monroe added.

He smiled, looking around at the inside with a hint of pride. “Ja, ja. It is a beautiful area with many beautiful churches. Please, enjoy your time in the Schwarzwald.”

“Oh, could you tell us how old this church is?” Nick asked quickly before he walked away.

The priest looked curious but thought a moment. “St. Laurentius was built in 1594.It is the oldest church in Wolfach, and as you can see, it still retains some of the original style.”

Nick and Monroe tried not to look as concerned as they felt when they glanced at one another. “I'm sorry, 1594? We thought this church was older than that,” Monroe said.

“Are there any older churches in the area?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, something more Gothic, you know? With the pointed arches and the ribbed vaults, maybe a flying buttress?”

The priest smiled in amusement. “You are talking about something from the time of the Crusades?”

“Yeah, we love that stuff,” he smiled, trying to seem like an architecture nerd. Which he was, sort of. It was a passing fancy really.

“I am sorry. You will not find anything that old near here,” he said, shaking his head.

They looked at one another again but smiled. “Well, thank you for your time,” Nick said.

“Enjoy our village, and you are welcome any time,” he said with a smile. Nick wasn’t sure it reached his eyes and had a bad feeling.

“Danke schon,” Monroe said, turning to head back to the door with Nick. “Well, we're only off by, like, 300 years,” he sighed once they were out the door. “This church didn't even exist during the Fourth Crusade.”

“But this is the church that's closest to the one on the map,” Nick sighed, climbing back into their car.

“Then we obviously made a mistake. We got to look at the map again.” Monroe reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the copy they brought with them. He looked where they’d circled. “All right, I know this map isn't even, like, close to scale, but it clearly shows a church existed here during the 13th century.”

Nick looked at it as well. “…The map is two dimensional.”

Monroe looked at him. “Uh, yeah, so?”

“So we're imagining the cross to be on top of the church,” Nick said, his mind forming an idea.

“That's usually how they're built.”

He shook his head and pointed “What if the cross, or "X", really does just mark the spot?”

“…Meaning the spot would be further away from Wolfach than the church looks on the map,” Monroe said, picking up on his train of thought.

“Closer to the confluence of these two rivers,” Nick nodded.

“Okay, that means we're in the wrong place. We need to look at the other map.” Monroe used his other hand to dig out his tablet, pulling up the GPS aerial map of the area. “All right, this mountain lines up with that mountain, and the confluence of the Wolf and the Kinzig rivers is right in the middle of town.” He put the map over the tablet, trying to get a better idea.

“And that cross lines up with the top of that hill, that's not too far out of town,” Nick said.”

Monroe nodded. “That makes sense, right? Build a church on the high ground above the village, before there even was a village.”

“But if there was this ancient church, somebody would have known about it,” Nick said, frowning.

“Right, and that priest didn't say anything…” Monroe said, frowning as well.

“…Maybe we're not looking for a church,” Nick proposed.

“Maybe they just... buried it on top of a hill,” Monroe nodded.

Nick grabbed the keys back up from his lap to start the car and put on his seatbelt. “Well, if we're gonna get out there, we better leave soon. It's about to get dark. We're gonna need a shovel and a couple of lanterns.”

Monroe nodded, putting his things away and also buckling up. “Into the woods we go.”

\-------------------------

Sloane got to the roof in record time. She had her gun raised, moving quietly but quickly to try and find Marwan. She wove around water collectors and AC units humming away too loud for her to be able to focus. She didn’t see any sign of someone else and growled. Moving to the side, she looked down to see if he’d made a new escape route. Moving to the far side, her eyes widened when she saw Marwan climbing down the side of the building. Despite the insect like ability to move down the wall, she could see he was a sort of bird. Black feathers, black curved beak like an eagle— _An Uhranuti?_ _Damn, that’s why he was able to shoot so well!_ “Marwan Hanano!”

His head whipped up and she could see his expression shift to one of shock and a bit of panic. He jumped the rest of the way, woging back to his bleach blonde look and trying to make a run for it.

Sloane cursed and rushed back for the stair well. It was ten floors down so she swung over the side and began jumping from floor to floor in the space between the handrails. She surprised Hank and Wu as they were rushing up, pressing against the wall with their guns raised. “Sloane?!”

“Marwan climbed down the side! I’m heading down after him!”

“Wait--!”

She didn’t wait, instead continuing her way down until she got to the ground and rushed out the door.

“…She really did start earning parkour, huh?” Wu said.

“Believe it or not, I think she’s done something like that before…”

Sloane raced to the side of the building, looking for Marwan. Moving down the street a little farther away, she heard the sound of a crash and turned to see a cyclist and slammed into a man with bleached blonde hair. Sloane started for him the same time a woman wearing a purple coat with a black scarf over her hair did. “Call an ambulance, I’ll check on him!” she said.

Sloane moved to take her badge out when she froze. The woman had taken off her sunglasses and her face was one she couldn’t forget. _Juliette…no, Eve, what is she—_

She gasped when she felt hands grab her and pull her aside. She lifted her arm, intent on snapping someone’s neck, but Meisner grabbed her wrist. “Wait!” he hissed.

Sloane looked at him, then at Eve as she was “tending” to Marwan, then back at him. “You son of a bitch, you used me,” she hissed.

“I knew you would find Hanano,” he sighed. “I knew you might kill him too and we need him alive.”

“He just tried to kill someone,” she gritted back.

“And he will face justice. But he is our only contact to Black Claw. Eve is getting his cellphone—he was making a call about being seen by a Grimm. Susannah read his lips.”

“Well that’s nice, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Let him go?”

“For now, yes.” He raised a hand. “I know it seems bad. But my father liked to fish and he would often say you sometimes have to throw a small fish away to get the bigger catch. Hanano can lead us to more Black Claw cells. Possibly the man in charge.”

“…Fine,” she said, holstering her gun. “Fine. I can understand that. But I don’t like being used.”

“I promise we were going to ask but…”

“We knew you wouldn’t want to work with me,” Eve said.

Sloane didn’t turn, leveling her gaze at a rather chagrinned Meisner. “I wonder why. Get your little fish to the hospital. And you tell me if you make any progress or you’ll be the one to explain to Dixon and his family what happened to his shooter. Provided he lives.” She headed back off again and Eve watched her go.

“…I have the phone. I put Hanano to sleep and he won’t wake up till I will it.”

“Let’s clone the sim card quickly then,” he sighed. “The van is down the street.”

She nodded, walking down that way. She eyed Sloane as she headed back to the stage but kept going.

The paramedics had arrived and were loading Dixon onto a stretcher. Renard, soaked in blood, watched worriedly. He looked up when Sloane came up. “Did you catch him?”

“…No. He got away. He had some _surprising skills_.”

Renard frowned deeply. “What kind?”

She leaned in and he leaned down to meet her as she whispered. “Uhranuti. He climbed down the side of the building using his talons. By the time I got down, he was gone…almost.”

“Almost?”

“Meisner came for him. They want to use him—”

“Detective Larson!” Sloane and Renard looked up as Rachael came over. She looked shaken, her make up running just slightly from tears. “I…I am so sorry. I should’ve listened to you…”

“I should’ve been more insistent, Rachael,” Renard said.

“I probably still wouldn’t have listened,” she said, sniffling. “And now Andrew is…”

“He’s still got a chance,” Renard said, more comforting.

“Thanks to you…And you again, detective. For giving that warning. How did you know though?”

“Just…put the pieces together with my partners,” Sloane said. “Sniper seemed the mostly likely choice and Dixon the most likely target.”

“But why?” Renard said, breathing deeply. “Why target him?”

“We’ll start looking into it,” Sloane said.

“I’ll meet you at the station after things are secure here.”

She nodded, heading back towards the apartments. She found Hank and Wu nearby. “Hey! How’s Dixon?”

“Alive, that’s all I know,” she sighed.

“Marwan got away?” Wu asked.

“Not…exactly. I don’t wanna lie to you guys so let’s go somewhere we can talk,” she sighed.

\-----------------------

“I'll call you when the cinchona arrives?” Rosalee said to the customer on the line. “Uh-huh. Okay, you're welcome.” She hanged up and sighed, tapping the phone as she let her thoughts wander.

“You okay?” Adalind asked.

She looked at Adalind and Kelly who were sitting at the worktable. Adalind was going through a few batches of spices while Kelly was teaching herself some of them by touch and smell more than sight. Diana was sitting in a pack and play nearby, playing with her dolls and some blocks. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re worried,” Kelly said, setting another jar down. “I don’t need my eyes to tell me that.”

“…Aren’t you?”

“I’m angrier that I didn’t get to go,” she sighed. “Or that I wasn’t invited to the unpacking.”

“We’re sorry about that,” Rosalee said again. “We just…don’t know how much you want to still be a part of this. I mean, we don’t want to just rub your nose in it…”

“I know,” she said more softly. “I get it…doesn’t make it easier though.”

“…Don't you think we should have heard from 'em by now?” Adalind asked.

Rosalee sighed. “Yeah…Maybe. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“Maybe they're out of cell service?” she said, trying to sound comforting.

“Yeah, that's one of the things I keep telling myself…”

“I'll try to come up with a few more for you,” Kelly said.

“I gotta go potty!” Diana said, standing up in the pack and play.

“Oh my gosh, she’s speaking in sentences,” Rosalee gasped.

“Yeah, and that’s her most important one,” Adalind chuckled.

“I’ll take her.” Kelly stood up and went over to lift her out. “Maybe I’ll take her for a walk too, if that’s okay. I…might need to clear my head a little too.”

Adalind nodded with a smile. “Sure, go for it.” Kelly went to take Diana to the shop’s bathroom, taking the stroller with her for afterwards. Adalind sighed and looked at Rosalee. “I feel for Kelly…I mean she’s such a huge help and she keeps getting better and better, but she’s also just kind of…”

“Existing? Rather than living?” Rosalee asked, looking after her worriedly.

“Yeah. I think helping with Diana was something she wanted to do to give her more of a purpose, and she’s been a huge help. And I’ll probably keep needing her when I go back to work. But I really want her to start doing more. I mean, she doesn’t have to travel and be a Grimm all the time anymore, she should get to enjoy some things. But every time I tell her that she changes the subject…And I know she’s worried about Nick a lot.”

“I wonder how you get a woman like that to relax,” Rosalee said. She heard her front bell ring and figured it was them heading out. But then it rang again and she glanced out to see one of her regulars. “Be right there!”

“I’m going to make some tea, you want some?” Adalind asked.

“Please,” she said, heading into the shop proper. Adalind set about making the tea, using the tea strainer and fresh leaves from Rosalee’s stash by the electric kettle. When she was about done she brought them back to the table and could hear Rosalee talking. “I can't believe it. It's horrible.”

“I know…Well, I have to go. You take care,” her customer said.

“You too.”

The bell rang again and Rosalee came in looking a bit paler. “What happened?”

“Somebody shot Andrew Dixon,” she said, still surprised.

Adalind was surprised as well. “The guy running for mayor?”

“Yes. He was shot at a rally just a couple of hours ago. They don’t know if he’ll make it…”

“Oh, my God. Did they get who did it?” she asked. She felt like she knew that name from somewhere else but couldn’t put her finger on it.

Rosalee shrugged helplessly and shook her head. They could hear the door open and the bell ring again as she spoke. “I don't know. A customer just told me. She didn't know anything more than that.” She paused when she heard her table bell being forcefully dinged a couple of times. Taking a deep breath, she put on a smile and went back to the shop floor. “Can I help you?”

Rosalee froze when she saw the man at the counter. He was scruffy, with a patchy five o’clock shadow and literally dirty blonde hair. He was gaunt, tall and thin. His clothes looked like he’d worn them a long time and slept in them too likely, and he carried a large backpack with a sleeping bag rolled on top. But those deep-set eyes were familiar and she felt like she couldn’t breath as panic set in. “Tony?”

Tony smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It never was unless he wanted something, and even then it was a pale imitation of a friend. That’s what this was, a friendly look painted by a forger. He sat the jar of herbs he’d been curiously sniffing down. “Why didn't you answer my letters? I know you got 'em. I checked the address outside. I sent 'em here.”

Rosalee took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Look, Tony, I have moved on with my life, and I don't think we need...”

“I need your help,” he said, smile fading a little.

“The kind of help you need, I... I can't give you,” she said, coming close enough to grab the jar and secure the lid to put it away.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked, huffing a bit indignantly.

“I don't want to get into this,” she said, shaking her head.

“You owe me,” he stated.

She turned, glaring at him. “I don't owe you anything.”

“I went to jail for you!”

“You didn't go to jail for me, Tony,” she said, shaking her head.

“I robbed those people 'cause you were crashing!”

“You robbed those people so you and Carlos could get high!” she snarled.

“Well, Carlos is dead now,” he stated. Rosalee flinched. The letter he sent stated as much. Carlos hadn’t been a great person, but he’d been one of the better men she knew on the streets in Seattle. The kind that tried to look out for others, especially girls in vulnerable positions. Tony looked out for them too but for less pure reasons. “J.J.'s in Boise, and Burt's in jail. I got no one left to turn to.” She faltered a moment till he went on. “I need five grand.” Her head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes, nostrils flaring. “You can come up with five grand! I mean, look at this place.” He gestured around them, moving to come behind the counter. She backed up, glaring at him. “Probably make that in a day…”

“You need to leave now,” she said, trying to be forceful.

He stared at her a moment before grabbing a jar from the counter behind him and throwing, aiming for her head. She managed to dodge it and for a moment she was back to being a filthy squatter, hooked on J and living in a condemned gas station. But she pushed that part of her back again and turned her head back to glare at him. That wasn’t who she was now and she would be damned if he made her feel less than what she was again.

“So you get your little ass straight. Think you're better than everyone.” He got up to her, toe to toe, in her face. “You know me, Rosy, and you should know better than to piss me off.” He marched around her and brought his hands up, tipping jars and boxes along the shelves to the ground. Glass shattered, dried herbs broke and spread apart like sand, and hundreds of dollars was being broken in seconds.

“Get out!” she screamed, grabbing him to push him away. He turned and backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling with a shout.

“You owe me, bitch!” he yelled.

“Stop it! Leave her alone!”

Rosalee and Tony looked up to see Adalind in the entryway to the side room. She was not intimidating in her jeans and gray sweater. Tony saw no threat as he turned to her. “How much money you got?”

Adalind swallowed “I'm calling the police.”

“The hell you are.” He woged into a beetle-like wesen—smooth face, helmet domed head, dark beady eyes and two feelers on either side of his sharp, finger-like mandibles. Adalind gasped in shock first, then in pain and doubled over, pressing her hands to her stomach. “Still want to call the cops?” he asked, getting right up to her.

“Tony, no!” Rosalee yelled, scrabbling to her feet.

Tony raised his hand, moving to strike Adalind. Just before he did though his hand froze. He looked surprised a moment—then his index finger bent backwards. There was a snapping sound as it broke and he screamed but couldn’t get away. Neither could Adalind as she watched in both fear and determination. Each of his fingers began to bend and break like twigs and he screamed in fear and de-woged. When he could finally move he pulled his hand close and ran for the door, screaming and crying in pain. Rosalee quickly ran and closed and locked the door behind him.

“Oh, God…Oh, my God…” Adalind gasped, covering her mouth and staggering backwards. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God, oh, my God—”

“Adalind,” Rosalee said, moving towards her.

“Oh, my God. It can't be back,” she whispered, shaking. Rosalee gently took her shoulders and guided her back to the side room, sitting on the metal frame bed in the corner. “Oh, my God, it can't be back; it can't be back. I don't want it back.”

“Maybe... maybe it's just... temporary,” Rosalee said, trying to calm both of them down.

“No, no, no, I can't have it back. I never want it back. Don't... please, you... You can't tell Nick.”

“What?”

“Please, please promise me that you won't tell him. If you tell Nick, or Sloane, they might tell Meisner or Renard or someone and then they might take Diana,” she said, shaking and on the verge of tears.

“Adalind, keeping it from them might be worse,” Rosalee said gently. “It would be so much worse if they found out and you hadn't told them. The suppressant wasn’t permanent, they’ll understand.”

“No, no they won’t. Because I am not good when I have my powers. I can't go back to being that.”

“You are so different now! Maybe it would be different even if it came back.”

“You don't understand what it's like being a Hexenbiest...” she said, shaking her head. “What it does to you, the way it makes you think and feel. It's not good. You saw what it did to Juliette.”

“But you are different, than her and than who you were before,” she said. “And what about Henrietta? She fights those urges. You were working to fight those urges even before, remember? You helped Sloane. You learned to heal. You decide what you do with your powers, the same way Juliette did.”

She sniffled, calming slightly. “…I just wanted to be normal…a good example for Diana…I can’t lose her again.”

Rosalee sighed and nodded. “…You didn’t use all of it. You kept some to give her and didn’t, right? Could you take that?”

Adalind sighed, remembering she did still have that small batch, and nodded. “Y-yes…you’re right, I have enough…but what do I do when that runs out?”

“Then we’ll figure something out,” she said.

She sighed and tried to calm down more. They jumped when they heard a knock at the door. “Adalind? Rosalee?”

“It’s Kelly,” Rosalee sighed, walking to the door.

“Wait! She can’t know either!” Adalind whispered.

“She lives with you, Adalind, I think she’s going to figure it out…”

“Please?”

Rosalee sighed but nodded. Adalind quickly wiped at her face, trying to regain a little composure as she opened the door.

“…What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m blind, not stupid,” Kelly said. “I can smell a bunch more herbs than before. Diana, sweety, is it messy in here?”

“Super messy!” the little girl said, looking around in surprise.

Rosalee flushed a bit at being outed by a toddler but sighed. “…We had a bad visitor. But he left.”

“Bad visitor?” Kelly asked.

“Someone from my past. A…very bad man.”

“…Is he still around?”

“No, Ada…we scared him off. I think I’m going to close early today. Why don’t you all go home and relax.”

“You don’t need help cleaning up?” Adalind asked.

“No, I can—” They jumped when the bits of glass and herbs rose up into the air. Rosalee looked at Adalind a moment, but she shook her head. They looked down at Diana, who’s eyes were glowing purple as she waved her little arms in the air. The jars and their contents floated through the air to the trashcan nearby. A few that were salvageable went back together magically. Soon the store was spick and span once again.

“All clean!”

“I…thank you, Diana, I appreciate that,” Rosalee said honestly.

Diana grinned up at her and then looked up at Adalind. “All clean!”

Adalind smiled and leaned down to stroke her hair. “Yes…good job, sweety. I’m proud of you.”

“She’s got a good role model,” Rosalee said gently.

“…I feel like I missed something,” Kelly sighed.

“…I’ll…tell you on the way home.”

“Okay…lead the way.”

\-------------------------

“Argh... That hurt...” Monroe groaned. Dust and small rocks were still falling around them. He and Nick had gone out into the woods beyond the town to search that night and gone to the top of the hill to see if they could find signs of an old, medieval church. Monroe found signs of stones lined up and another flat stone that could’ve been part of a foundation. Prying it up to confirm it had chisel marks, they’d felt the earth move under their feet. Monroe said they might’ve shifted something accidently just as the ground gave way and they plunged into the darkness.

“Are you okay?” Nick coughed, groaning as he tried to get his bearings and move.

“I don't know yet…I don't think anything's broken…” he grunted, stretching his neck carefully.

“I think I'm okay too…” Nick sighed.

“Ugh…this is the third time I’ve fallen into a pit on our adventures, I want to note that…”

“Noted,” Nick grunted as they both got to their feet.

Monroe turned his lantern up to the opening they fell through a good ten feet up in the air. “We in some kind of a cave?”

“I have no idea,” he sighed.

Moving the lantern down and around, he jumped slightly when he was met with an alcove filled carefully with human skills. “Dude...It's a catacomb,” he gasped.

“This must be a church,” Nick said, finding more bone laden walls.

“Not just any church. This is the church from the map!” Monroe said, laughing a little. He went towards an opening and Nick followed. They found a few areas where bodies had been laid out rather than stacked, the skeletons resting peacefully despite the sudden intrusion. “My God. Whatever they hid, they have to have hidden it down here.”

“Well, they must have buried it,” Nick said, looking around. “Start with the floor. Look for some kind of opening.”

“Get the shovels,” Monroe said.

Nick went back to get their gear where they fell with them and they started trying to find a hallow area or other hiding place beneath the large flagstones. After an hour Monroe groaned and dropped his.

“I got nothing!”

“Neither do I,” Nick sighed. Despite being nearly a millennium old, the floor of the church was as sturdy as ever. There was no sign of a secret chamber and was only the two rooms as far as they could see—it was a small church likely.

“Burying something under these stones? I mean, that's kind of overkill, don't you think?” Nick looked up at him and Monroe gestured around them. “I mean, we are in the catacombs of an ancient church in the middle of the Black Forest. You really think the crusaders would have made it that difficult if they ever wanted to come back for this thing someday?”

“Well, we have to check, because they might have, and we're not coming back,” Nick said, impatient as he kept scrapping his shovel along the seams to find a place it would be able to dig or pry.

“But think about it... Archeology, anthropology as we know it didn't exist back then. History wasn't something you studied. It was something you made! …Usually with a lot of blood.” He sighed, looking around again. “I'm just saying, I think...I think we need to think like them.”

Nick nodded slowly and stood. “Okay…So 800 years ago, people were very superstitious. They wouldn't have liked being down here.” _I don’t like being down here_.

“Right? So maybe... putting something behind a bunch of dead people would give it a little more security than just, you know, burying it under any old stones.” Monroe said, moving towards one of the resting places.

Nick followed, the lantern flickering slightly. He looked at the skull of the body and nodded again. “Protected by the spirits of the dead.”

“Exactly! Skull and crossbones! Crossbones make an X!” he said, forming an ex with his arms.

“I'll start with this one,” Nick said, reaching up to take the skull.

Monroe went to another wall and reached to grab a skull. “Nothing personal, guys. Or gals,” he added. They started taking bones off the shelves, trying to find any sign of something important. After taking several piles of remains down and finding nothing, Monroe sighed. “Maybe this is wrong too.”

“No, we're not done yet,” Nick said, determined to find something.

Monroe went to the next one and dropped a femur, which broke on the ground like a dry branch. “Oh, sorry, buddy…Better now than when you were alive, though, right?” He knelt to pick the pieces up but paused when he heard a rumbling. He looked up again in time for a wave of bones to come flooding from behind. They pelted him and he quickly stood to try and get out of the way while they crashed to the ground, many more breaking or cracking. “Whoa…Wow.” Nick came over to look too and Monroe eased forward through the puddle of bones to look up where they’d come from. He moved a few from the shelf to get a better look, less caring now. There was a negative space behind the resting place where the bones had been stuffed up. But it wasn’t terribly far back and it seemed empty now. “I don't think there's anything else up there…reminds me of when I don’t clean my chimney.”

Nick sighed and paced slightly. “There's something we're not seeing…Just like the maps on the keys. The X was right in front of us, but we couldn't see it until we started thinking differently.”

“Well, I'm thinking all these bones look the same to me,” Monroe sighed.

He shook his head. “No, it's got to be down here somewhere.”

“What if we're looking too hard? You know? I mean, I don't see an X, Nick,” he sighed.

Nick racked his brains, tapping his fingers. “We need to go back 800 years…”

“We kind of are back 800 years. I don't think a lot has changed down here in that time,” Monroe said dryly.

“I'm not talking about the place. I'm talking about us. It's like you said. We're not thinking the way they are,” Nick said. Monroe sighed, his frustration starting to boil over. Nick looked around and his eyes landed on his lantern. “…Nobody would come down here without light, right?”

“Not if they wanted to see anything, no,” he said.

“And they would've been too scared by the spirits, right?”

Monroe began to pick up on Nick’s train of thought and nodded slowly. “Yeah…and in a world lit only by fire, they would have had, like, you know, torches.”

“So what if light actually prevents someone from seeing it?” Nick said, picking up the electric lantern.

“Wait a minute,” Monroe said, nodding slowly. “If nobody would ever come down here without torchlight but what they hid can't be seen with torchlight, then, yeah, I mean, fear alone would have kept anybody from doing that.”

“So maybe we should turn off the lights.” Nick clicked his flashlight off, then reached down to turn the lantern off.

Monroe blanched. “Uh...Yeah, I mean, I guess... guess we could do that.” He hesitated but quickly clicked his lantern off. “Okay, dark…” he said, his voice higher as he fought panic. Even his blutbad senses couldn’t see anything in this darkness.

“…Well, it's not an X,” Nick said.

“What's not an X? I can't tell what you're looking at.” He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, my God, that better be your hand.” The hand pushed him and made him about face and he nearly dropped the lantern in surprise.

“Look at those skulls,” Nick said. They walked forward, staring at the back of seven skulls in the wall that were glowing. It was a faint phosphorescent glow in a pale yellowish hue.

“Seven of 'em…Kind of a circle,” Monroe said, shocked.

“Doesn't look like a circle. Looks more like a G,” Nick said.

“Oh, my God. For the seven Grimm crusaders. Holy crap.”

Nick turned his lantern back on. The wall had many more skulls set into it, with femur bones between them to keep them stable. But there was something that made those seven different he realized. “They're all facing in, not out…”

“What do you think those seven are looking at?” Monroe asked, looking at Nick with anticipation.

“Let's find out.” Despite their eagerness, they carefully removed one of the skulls. A few bones came out, but for the most part they stayed where they were as they carefully took another out. When they had a gap about two feet wide Nick heard the scrape like the bones hit something metal. He reached in and quickly moved a few out of the way to see a metal cross behind them. He laughed a bit and so did Monroe. “There's the X.”

They kept pulling the bones away, putting them in piles at the side, till they revealed the cross was the emblem of a large kite shield. The kind that would’ve been used by the templars. Monroe grabbed the shovel and worked to wedge it in behind it. “This is a seriously old shield,” He grunted, trying to get the shovel in deeper.

“I doubt they would have just hidden a shield,” Nick said, supporting it so it didn’t just fall back on them. “It's probably protecting something.”

They both grunted as the shield popped free and quickly grabbed it to take it down and put it to the side. Behind the shield was a deep recessed hole in the wall, covered in cobwebs.

“Holy crap…Check it out,” Monroe gasped.

Nick swiped the cobwebs away to get a better look. Sitting in the recess was a chest about the size and shape of an old metal toolbox. It was old and had a think patina on it that made it look dingy. Nick reached up to grab it.

“Careful, careful, careful. It could fall apart,” Monroe said quietly.

Nick pulled it carefully from the hole with a dull scraping sound and grunted as he carried it over to a fallen stone column. “I think it's bronze,” Nick said, pulling the lantern closer.

“Those look like keyholes,” Monroe said, carefully tracing one hole. “Four on this side...” He craned his neck to see the other side. “Three on the other.”

“Seven locks, seven keys!” Nick said, letting his excitement get to him. “Let's give it a try!” He reached into his jacket and pulled out the leather folding satchel he’d put the keys into. Monroe took one and he took one to unfold. They started trying the keys in the holes but Monroe was having no luck as the key refused to turn in any of them.

“Oh, man. Not boding well.”

Nick was having similar luck till he got to the third hole and with a little force the key turned and he heard a click. He grinned. “I got one.” They both laughed, giddy with success.

Monroe tried the last hole on his side and got the key to turn as well. “Oh, my God, Nick. Dude, this is it. I mean, this is really it. We're touching history! I mean, this thing hasn't been seen for, like, 800 years. I mean... I just... I think we should take a moment and just, you know, recognize the significance of this,” he said, taking a deep meditative breath. “Savor the moment.”

“Well, it's not open yet,” Nick said, still trying keys.

“I know, I know, but this is momentous, even if it's empty. I mean, we came this far, we found it, after all the others have searched throughout the centuries!” Nick looked at him with a touch of impatience as he struggled with one of the keys and Monroe smiled apologetically for getting worked up. “I know. I know. I mean, we should see if it opens, but I'm just saying.”

Nick got the rest of the keys in, but with only five the lid didn’t give. He tried pulling at it, but even with Grim strength it stayed fused to the base. He sighed in frustration. “We're gonna need the other two keys. Or lockpicks,” he added, realizing that might be easier.

Monroe groaned, covering his face in shame. “I forgot my lockpicks! I should have brought my lockpicks…I mean, we can't take it to a locksmith here. How do we explain what it is or how we found it or any of it?”

Nick nodded and grabbed it back up. “We're gonna have to take it to Portland.”

“All right, well, the first thing we got to do is figure out how to get out of here,” Monroe said, standing to go look where they fell through while Nick secured the box in his backpack. “I mean, we certainly can't climb back up the way we fell in.”

“Well, there's got to be an entrance,” he said, covering the box with some of his clothes.

“All right, I'll take this one,” He said, heading for another archway. He pulled some of the cobwebs away, looking around with the lantern. Once Nick got the box secured, he also went searching. He realized there was a lot more to the church catacomb than he first thought. They were lucking in a way to land where they did because it could’ve taken hours or even a couple of days to search the rest.

Monroe was surprised when he found a couple of skeletons decked out in jewels and silk. But even stranger, he saw a banner between them. It was a tapestry of some kind, showing seven men kneeling around a dark figure, each holding something up to him. He frowned and reached up to carefully straighten it. There were words written around the border. “…Sieben zerbrochene Stücke…um ihn einzudämmen…What? I can’t read the rest…” he squinted, bringing the lantern closer and pulling lightly at the material.

Nick managed to find a set of stairs. “Hey, I think I found the way out!” He started up the stairs. Monroe, startled by the yell, pulled on the banner and gasped as it pulled free. He grimaced but then quickly rolled it up and put it in his pack while he went to find Nick. He could see the light from his lantern at the end of one passage and quickly went to it, heading upstairs to find Nick looking at what appeared to be a cave in with barely contained panic.

“This has to be it…”

Monroe put his pack to the side and quickly began to help him try to dig a way out.

\-------------------------

Renard wished he was the sort of man that kept a tumbler of whiskey in his office. He’d come straight from the rally after things were handled as best they could be. He’d pulled open his tie and saw he still had blood on his cuffs and hands. He’d washed his hands but they were still there. Andrew was taken to the hospital and it didn’t look good. He was still alive, but lost a lot of blood. He’d pulled him back enough the bullet missed his heart and main organs, but it hit just above his hip. They thought the bullet may have nicked either the iliac or femoral arteries. Or both. And a lot of nerves as well.

He looked up when there was a knock on the door and nodded to Sloane, Hank and Wu. He waved them in and waited till they closed to the door to grill them. “You said he got away?”

“He did. But I saw Marwan afterward,” Sloane said.

“Then why didn’t you bring him in?” he asked, not his usual calm. He was angry, it was obvious, but more so at whoever did this.

Sloane stayed calm though. “I was going to. He’d apparently been hit by a cyclist. But I realized that someone else was there…”

“Who?”

“…Eve.”

He straightened then sighed. “You mentioned Meisner too…”

“He’s the one that really stopped me. Apparently they came because they want Hanano as well, but more as a…”

“Lure?” Wu supplied.

“Sort of. They want to use him to lead them to the Black Claw cell still in Portland.”

“So you let him?”

She sighed. “I didn’t like it either. But Meisner made a good point; we don’t know what Black Claw is planning right now. They’re going to track him, figure it out and let us know.”

“This could be worse than Halloween,” Hank said worriedly. “We barely kept that from turning into a city full of woging, raging wesen…what they got planned next could be just as bad.”

Renard calmed slightly. “…But this doesn't make any sense. Why would he kill a candidate running for mayor of Portland? If he’s working for Black Claw, his targets are bigger than this.”

“Unless Dixon was Wesen,” Hank said.

“Was he? Er…is he?”

“No, I don't think so…And I don’t know how he’s doing. He’s in surgery last I heard…”

“…I’m sorry,” Sloane said, looking down. “If we’d just been faster…”

“…You did more than I did,” Renard sighed. “You tried to warn us, and you at least gave him a chance…”

“You risked getting shot for him though, Captain,” Hank said.

“…I don’t have a lot of actual friends. Andrew is one of the few I have.” They looked at one another, feeling for their Captain. Renard glanced up and frowned. “Feds are here…”

They turned to see a couple of men in FBI jackets. Apparently firing at a Mayoral candidate got their attention. “They're gonna be all over this,” Hank said.

“What do we tell 'em?” Wu grimaced. “Can't I.D. Marwan, 'cause we can't explain our source.”

Renard sighed, leaning against his desk. “Run them through it. Tell them you saw a shooter in the window. Let them run their own investigation, and stay out of it. We’ll wait till HW tells us something.”

They nodded and headed for the door. Sloane paused and looked back at him. “…You should got home and get cleaned up.”

“I need to help figure this out—”

“We’re going to be busy giving the feds our info, you got time. Being covered in blood isn’t going to help get things done. And it’s going to distract you too.”

“…Fair point. I’ll be back soon then,” he sighed.

She nodded and headed out. She paused and went down a side hall to take her phone out. Looking at it, she sighed when she didn’t see any new texts or missed calls. Worry nibbled at her insides but she pushed it away. She thought about calling but opted for a text instead.

 _“Hey, Nick”—no, that’s not right. “Dear Nick”—am I waiting for my husband to return from war?! “Nicky—” No. Just no, that is what his mother calls him. “Babe”—nah uh. Ugh, it’s a text, you got several others in here, just keep it casual. Just like before. Sleeping together has changed nothing…Oh who am I kidding, it definitely did._ She groaned and pulled at her face in frustration. Staring at the ceiling, she blushed at how she felt so unsure on a _text_ of all things. Looking at her phone again, she took a breath and typed out what she wanted to know.

_Are you okay?_

She nodded and sent that and put her phone away again to go break down what they knew to the FBI.

\------------------------

“You sure you want to put yourself through this again?” Kelly asked.

Adalind sighed, looking at the jar on the table like a dangerous animal. “I don’t have much choice…”

“Nick told me it was pretty rough on you the first time…”

“To put it mildly…Some restraints would be nice. It’s going to look like I’m having a seizure. Or an exorcism. It kind of is I guess…”

“Not really putting me at ease here…”

“I’d rather you be ready than at ease…Diana is down for her nap?”

“Yes, I set her down in her crib and closed the door.”

She nodded. “Okay…Okay, I did this once, I can do it again.” She unscrewed the lid and wrinkled her nose. Despite looking like water it still had the stench of a decaying body.

“Don’t guess you can mix a little wine in there?”

“Honestly might make me sicker,” she sighed. She grasped the jar and moved to pick it up…but couldn’t. “What?” She pulled harder. “Why can’t I pick it up?” She grasped it with both hands, but then gasped when it flew up away from her grasp. It hovered in the air.

“Mommy, no!”

“Diana?!” Adalind gasped, looking to see her daughter at the hall with her hands up and her eyes glowing violet.

“Diana, it’s naptime,” Kelly said, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

She shook her head. “Bad stuff! Mommy shouldn’t drink!”

Adalind felt her heart clench. “Diana, I know you’re trying to help, but mommy has to drink that.”

“No!”

“Diana, give mommy the jar,” she said, trying not to snap.

Diana screwed up her face. “No!” she waved her hands and Adalind gasped as the jar shot past her and smashed against thew wall. It shattered into pieces, the potion dripping down the wall to the puddle of glass shards below.

“Diana!” Adalind gasped.

“Oh, that didn’t sound good,” Kelly said.

“Diana, what have you done?!” Adalind said.

Diana jumped at her raised voice and then began to sob. “I-it’s bad! Smells bad and feels bad! I don’t want mommy drinking it!”

Adalind groaned and covered her face, trying hard to calm down. “…Sweetheart…I am so happy you want to protect me but I knew what I was doing, I promise…”

“…I did bad?”

She looked at her through her fingers, watching tears roll down her face. Adalind sighed and walked over, picking her up. “You tried to do the right thing…But mommy worked very hard on that drink and it was…medicine. Medicine is often yucky but we take it to make things better. Like when you had a fever.”

“…Sorry…” she said, sniffling.

“…We’ll figure things out,” she sighed, kissing her forehead. “Kelly is going to put you down for a nap now—and you need to take it. Mommy is going to clean this up.”

“…Okay,” she said. Kelly stood and Adalind handed Diana to her.

“It’ll be alright, Adalind,” she said. “You have my trust that you’re not going to be a bad witch anymore.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling honestly. She sighed and grabbed the broom from the nearby closet and moved to sweep up the glass. There was no salvaging the potion she knew and she tried not to think about how she’d make more. A dead Hexenbiest was not easy to come by…

\---------------------------

Monroe managed to push his head up through the leaf litter and pine needles, taking a breath of the clear forest air. Fresh and dust free compared to the musty crypts below. “We're out,” he sighed. He pushed his hands clear of the edge, pulling the rest of his body out. It was a bit like that scene in _Shawshank Redemption,_ only it wasn’t raining. Once he was on his feet, he turned to look down. “All right, hand me the stuff.”

Nick handed him one lantern, then his pack, then Nick’s pack, then the other lantern before moving to climb out himself. Monroe reached down to help him up. They looked at one another, filthy but alive and with the treasure in hand, before laughing in triumph.

“Let's go,” Nick said, clapping him on the back.

“Okay,” Monroe nodded, grabbing his pack and a lantern. They hopped down a small incline and saw the stacked stones at the side of it. This must’ve been where the church proper once stood. It was little more than a sloping hill now, maybe about six feet at its highest point. Which was still mostly dirt. Monroe wondered if maybe it had been left to be forgotten on purpose as another layer of protection.

As they made their way down to the edge though they froze when they saw spots of light through the trees. Voices were accompanying them, giving orders of where to go from the sound of it. “That's a lot of lights…” Monroe said.

“They’re coming this way,” Nick said, getting a bad feeling.

“Well, maybe somebody's lost and it's a search party looking for...” They looked at one another.

“We should go,” Nick said. They turned the lanterns off and quietly sprinted the other way, trying to find a way around. When they saw more lights ahead, they ducked down and hid among the underbrush. Several members were speaking German to one another, moving only feet away. Peeking through the leaves, they could see one man turn around and recognized his frock and collar under his coat before even seeing his face. He was looking around and pointing to people, orchestrating much of the search before moving on with his lantern held high.

“Was that the priest?” Monroe hissed.

“Yeah, I think so,” Nick nodded.

“What the hell is the priest doing out here? You think he knows about the keys?”

Nick shook his head slowly, frowning worriedly. “No, I think the guy we scared in the church made me as a Grimm.”

“…Oh, my God, you're right,” he gasped. “He obviously told the priest.”

“They're hunting us,” Nick said. He held his pack close to him as they got up again and tried to find a way around to their rental car.

They got a few feet away when they heard the priest yelling. It didn’t sound distressed, more like an order. “He's calling for them to go to him,” Monroe said. “He must have found the catacombs.”

“Well, that ought to keep 'em busy for a while,” Nick said, nudging him along.

They came to a small clearing just as the man from the church did, the Ungeziefer Greifer. He froze for a moment seeing Monroe and Nick, but then threw off his soft cap and bared his teeth. Woging, he rushed forward. Monroe hadn’t expected the weasel-like wesen to attack and brought his arm up, shouting as teeth dug in through his coat and shirt to the skin beneath. Nick rushed in and grabbed the man, pulling him off of Monroe and throwing him away. He made a high-pitched snarl and ran into the woods while Monroe cradled his arm.

“Little bastard! He bit me!” Monroe growled and moved to go after him but Nick stopped him.

“No, hey, no! We don't have time.” Monroe growled but let him push him to keep going the other way. “Go.”

“Man,” he sighed, heading that way while they heard the little weasel shouting “Der Grimm, der Grimm, der Grimm!” over and over to alert the others.

They ran as fast as they could while dodging bushes and trees in the dark to get to where their car was parked at the base of the hill. They slowed as they got closer. Nick was barely breathing heavier and Monroe quickly caught his breath so they could quietly move in. They saw two men by their car, surrounded by several others, one holding a lantern and another holding a flashlight. They had no weapons but that didn’t mean they couldn’t woge into something much more dangerous. But they couldn’t see them yet.

“Our car is right in the middle…How are we supposed to get down there without them seeing us?” Monroe sighed in frustration.

Nick looked at them, trying to think like a group of wesen hunting a Grimm. He was sure the priest would try to get the bravest and boldest he could to come hunt with him. He doubted any of them liked staying behind to watch the cars. “…Call them. Tell them you're here.”

Monroe looked at Nick like he’d lost his mind. “What?”

“In German,” Nick said, as if that clarified things.

“But they don't know me!” he hissed.

“What if you did it while you were woged?”

Monroe gave him a flat look and spoke with only a slightly mocking air of being insulted. “All Blutbaden do not look alike.”

Nick rolled his eyes and looked at him. “I know, but it's dark, and if they're looking for a Grimm, the last place they'd expect to find one is with a Blutbad in the middle of the Black Forest.”

“That's true,” he nodded, unable to argue.

“You have any better ideas?” Nick pressed.

He sighed and shrugged off his pack. “No, I guess I don't.” He woged, his red eyes almost glowing in the dark forest. He nodded to Nick before going stumbling out and playing up his bloody arm like it was a war wound. “Hallo, hallo!” he yelled. The men gasped and turned towards him, lifting their lights. Monroe put his arms up as if blinded by the light but also to hide his face and make it harder to see him. “ _They need your help!”_ he shouted in German. _“It’s the Grimm! Hurry! Hurry!”_ Both men ran past him, heading up towards the top of the hill. _“So many hurt!”_ he said, trying to sell it. When they were far enough away he woged back and waved at Nick. “Come on! Come on!”

Nick rushed down, handing Monroe’s bag back to him and going to their car. “It's not gonna take 'em long to figure out what happened,” Nick said, unlocking the rental car.

“Well, we can't outrun all of them!”

“They're not gonna know which way we went!”

“Well, then, they're gonna split up. We're gonna have to deal with some of 'em!” Monroe pointed out.

Nick cursed under his breath, looking around before back at him. “One tire, each car.”

Monroe’s face lit up. “The shovels.”

Nick nodded and they grabbed the small shovel from the side of their packs and quickly went around and jammed them hard into the tires. It took a couple of hits on some but the managed to cause deep, wide gashes that let the air come hissing out quickly. As Nick was slicing the last one he paused and focused his hearing. He could hear footsteps and shouts in the distance but they were getting closer. “They're coming.”

Monroe did his last wheel and they dashed to their rental car, jumping in and throwing it into drive and skidding out over the dirt and tree debris just as they saw the men coming down from the trees. They got onto the road and drove fast. “We need to get to Leo’s.”

“Shouldn’t we go straight for the airport?” Monroe said, trying to bandage his arm with the first aid kit from his bag.

“The priest knows what names we’re flying under. He could call in a false tip and make it harder for us to fly back out. He might know what to do, and he’ll have a better way to get whatever we’ve got home too because that’s going to be hard to explain at customs.”

“Fair point…you sure we can trust him?”

“I’m sure we have no better choice right now either.”

He sighed and nodded. It took them a little over an hour to get to Leo’s place. Nick opted to go and knock on the door while Monroe stayed in the car. Leo came to the door in a long old-fashioned nightgown, rubbing his eyes. “Do you know what time it is…Whoa, mate, you look like you’ve been through the wringer,” he said, waking up more.

“More like climbed out of a grave,” Nick sighed. “We managed to do what we came to do though. Now we need your help getting back to America.”

“My help?”

“Our aliases were compromised. I’m worried about getting home without getting pulled aside by the TSA or whatever the equivalent here is.”

“Okay…I mean, the library is better for that…”

“I have something I need to get through security too…” he went on, giving him a hard look.

“Okay, okay, I’ll make some calls,” he sighed, stepping aside to let him in. He glanced at the car but Monroe just waved with his good hand. He quirked his brow but closed the door. “How big is what you need to disguise?”

“Uh…” Nick gestured with his hands and Leo’s eyes widened.

“Are you taking the piss…?”

“…No?”

“Ugh, I don’t do things that size without at least a week’s notice!”

“Well I don’t have a week!” Nick said back. Leo glared at him and Nick sighed. “Look, I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but Sloane put a lot of faith in you. If you can’t do it…”

“…I know you’re trying to manipulate me. I hate that it’s working,” he sighed, moving past him. “Okay…I can manage it and getting you through, I think, but you will owe me.”

“How much?” Nick asked, worriedly.

“Not money. Not for this. You will _owe_ me.”

Nick knew he should be more concerned about that but nodded. “Right. Okay, got it.”

He nodded and went over to a work bench. “I was about to package your knife. You still want that?”

“Yes, of course,” Nick said. He held it out to him and Nick took it. He smiled a bit when he saw he’d put a few more touches to it—the scroll work _S_ was engraved on the blade near the hilt, dry brushed a dark metallic silver that wouldn’t reflect light. The black leather was re-braided to be more comfortable and it had a silver cap at the end that had a mystical sort of woven quality to it. “It’s perfect…”

Leo straightened a bit, pleased obviously. “Well yes, of course it is…But give it here.” He took it back, putting a simple black leather sheath over it. He then set the down onto a piece of cloth and wrapped it up. Then he reached up to a shelf and pulled down a teddy bear. Nick blinked, staring at it till Leo reached into a tiny hole in the neck and pulled down a zipper.

“What is that?” Nick asked, watching as he slipped the knife inside.

“Best sized hidey-hole I have for the knife,” He said, making sure it fit in. “The inside is fluff, then a special lining I treated that will hide the knife from view. It’ll look like empty space behind the fluff they do see. It’s only good for a short time though so it’s not really reusable unfortunately…”

“That’s…still pretty amazing,” Nick said.

“You think? I could tell you all about it—” he said, getting excited.

“I would normally love that—and I’m sure my friend would too—but we need to get going.”

“Oh…right, sorry,” he said, smiling apologetically. He grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and pulled them on. “Um, for that other thing, whatever it is, a teddy bear won’t cut it. The best I can do is give you like a bit of cloth I treated with my process. Wrap it up and put your clothes around it to try and hide it. That’s all I have on short notice…”

“That’ll be fine, thank you,” Nick sighed.

Leo went to a fridge and pulled the out a length of cloth the size of a bath towel. “This one should be ready. …You might want to put on some gloves.”

Nick did so, wondering if the cloth was radioactive. “Uh, thank you…Like you said, I owe you big.”

“Yes you do,” he said. “What did you even get you need to smuggle home like that? It’s not a baby right? Because this should not be near a baby…”

“No, it’s not a baby,” Nick said, worried now what other Grimms were smuggling around. “Just…something we need to take back with us.”

“…Mysterious.”

“Sorry, we don’t know much about it either?” Nick said, trying to smile.

“Hmmm…well, alright. I’ll call the airport. The I’ll ask our contact to meet you at the rental car return, and they’ll get you on a plane to where you need to go. The cloth is good for about 48 hours so it should be fine till you get to…Portland?”

“Yes. Thank you, Leo, you are amazing,” Nick said, meaning it.

Leo smiled brightly. “I do what I can. But next time, go through the library please…I have trouble enough sleeping as it is and I nearly brought Bianca down with me.”

Nick wondered if that meant he slept with the crossbow but didn’t want to ask.

\-------------------

Sloane walked up to the Spice Shop that afternoon feeling like it had been days instead of just hours since the incident at the park. After talking to the FBI and knowing they wouldn’t be getting anywhere for a while she’d opted to leave it for the evening. Spinning her wheels in the mud wasn’t going to get them anywhere. When she got to the door though she was surprised to see it was locked, the shade down, and the sign flipped to close. But she’d seen Rosalee’s car where she normally parked it…She knocked on the door. “Rosalee? Are you there?”

“Sloane?” she heard from inside. There were hurried steps and she came to the door and unlocked it. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming…”

“Yeah, it was sort of spur of the moment—” she froze and leaned in more to Rosalee. “…You have a bruise on your cheek?” Rosalee flushed and then sighed and gestured for her to come in. She locked the door once she was inside. Sloane frowned worriedly. “Rosalee, what happened?”

“…Someone…I really didn’t want to see came to visit today,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated but then sighed and walked to the side room with her. “You know about my past. How I used to be addicted to J and I lived rough in Seattle and all that…”

“Yeah? I mean, my past still is probably worse unless you have a few literal skeletons in the closet,” she said, trying to smile.

Rosalee smiled a little but sighed. “One of the guys I used to know then…Tony…came here. I knew he’d found out where I was, he’d sent letters here to the shop. I just didn’t expect him to come in person. But he did and he wanted me to give him money. I refused and…”

“…And he hit you?” Rosalee nodded. “…You know where he is now?” she asked, her expression growing darker as they spoke.

“No, and I don’t want to know. And I don’t want you looking for him.”

“…”

“I mean it,” Rosalee said, smiling. “He got what was coming to him, I promise.”

“A swift kick in the balls and a good beating?”

“Eh…five broken fingers,” she said, grimacing at the memory more because of the sound than the fact it happened to Tony.

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up and she set a hand on Rosalee’s shoulder. “Is it weird if I say I’m proud of you?”

She laughed and put a hand on her shoulder back. “It wasn’t me I’m afraid. It was…um…”

“…Um?”

“…It’s complicated,” Rosalee said, shifting uncomfortably.

“…I mean, I’ve already had a complicated day, lay it on me,” she sighed.

“…Okay. It might be good you know. But don’t tell anyone else, not even Nick.” Sloane frowned at that and Rosalee sighed. “I know that’s putting you on the spot, but she’s already freaking out…”

“Who?”

“…Adalind. She…she’s getting her powers back. The suppressant is wearing off, and she broke Tony’s fingers when he tried to hit her.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “…Oh…shit…”

“I really think she’s changed though,” Rosalee said quickly. “She honestly was freaking out about it, almost crying. She’s scared she’ll slide backwards. That she might lose Diana. But she was doing well before, helping you and Henrietta. And she did it protect me. She stood up for me when she didn’t even know what was going on.”

“…Well…I can’t exactly fault her for that then,” she sighed. Rosalee smiled and hugged her and she patted her back. “If I find this Tony though, he’s going to be walking funny the rest of his life.”

“And I won’t stop you,” she said breezily. They giggled a little and pulled back. “What about your complicated day?”

“…I tried to stop a political assassination and failed…” Sloane said, looking down.

“Oh! Andrew Dixon?” she gasped.

“Yeah, you heard?”

She nodded. “I heard he was shot…You were there?”

“We were trying to stop the shooter. It was Marwan Hanano, that guy Trubel warned us about. We figured out what he was doing too late though…”

“Is he…I mean, I heard he was shot but…”

Sloane shrugged. “Last I heard he was going into surgery but I don’t think he’s going to be 100% again even if he lives…Seemed like a good guy too.”

“Yeah…” She looked her over and then rubbed over her arms a little in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s not your fault, Sloane.”

“…If I’d just been faster—”

“Then you or someone else might’ve gotten shot,” she said, squeezing her. “The fact you figured it out was pretty amazing. Did you get him?”

“No, I had to let him go,” she sighed.

“Had to?”

“Meisner asked me to. He thinks Hanano could lead them to a larger group of Black Claw. And Eve was there…”

“Eve? Seriously?” she said, growing more concerned.

“Yeah.” She sighed and sat down, rubbing her temples. “I came to tell you but also get something for a headache because I have had one all day. We just finished with the FBI, giving them a different trail to follow so we don’t end up with a bunch of dead agents…”

“I’ll get you my headache tea,” she said. Sloane smiled gratefully.

She got fresh water in the electric kettle to start it up. “…So…you and Nick…”

Sloane looked up, blushing just a little. “Uh…yeah?”

“Just…I’m happy for you two, she said, smiling warmly.

She blushed more and ducked her head. “…Thanks…”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes! I mean, I am, definitely. I just…” she sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know if I consider Collin a real “relationship”. We were together but there was no dating, and his idea of romance was killing things together.”

“Yeah, that sounds all kinds of bad…”

“I didn’t really get that at the time,” Sloane said. “After that I never really…well, there was one other…”

“Oh?”

“It was while I was in Japan. I was studying martial arts with one of the Grimm families over there, staying with them. Studied for about two years…started something with the oldest of the head’s kids…Her name was Kazumi.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened. “Her?”

“…Yeah?”

“Oh, no, that’s—I just didn’t realize…”

She shrugged. “Gender’s never been a big issue for me. Honestly, I don’t feel attraction very often so when I do it’s…I just go with it.”

“Oh, that’s…cool. I guess I sort of thought it was something like that…So you felt it with Kazumi.”

“Yeah…Like most things it didn’t end well though,” she sighed.

“…Did she try to kill you?”

“Ha, no,” she said, smiling wryly, “…Her fiancé did.” Rosalee’s jaw dropped and Sloane blushed. “It was an arranged marriage; I didn’t know about it till then. I fought back but she ultimately told me that she wasn’t willing to give up her family for me and I left.”

“Oh wow…” she said.

“Yeah. You know, I think you’re actually the first person I’ve ever told about her,” she realized. “I’d already split from the others and I just sort of went through it on my own…”

She smiled and squeezed her hands. “Thank you for telling me then…”

“So…not wierded out?”

“No, of course not! …It does put you flirting with me at the wedding boutique in a new light but I guess that was still joking.”

“Oh no, I was completely serious. We could’ve had something beautiful together, if your taste in men wasn’t such a turn off,” she said, mockingly wistful and sad.

Rosalee laughed and pushed her a little and she smiled back, glad she could get her to relax a little. “But Nick is different?” Rosalee asked.

She smiled warmly and nodded. “Yeah…really different. Honestly, I’m kind of scared…I mean, I never really thought a guy like him would want someone like me given my past…”

Rosalee smiled and squeezed her hand again. “I felt the same about Monroe…”

“Nothing good in my life stays though…” she whispered.

“Hey now, I’m here,” she said. “And this will stay, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” she said, smiling a little.

“Have you heard from them?” she asked hopefully.

Sloane shook her head. “I texted but didn’t get a reply…I’m sure they’re alright though.”

She nodded and then stood when she heard the kettle click and went to fix their tea. When she brought it over for Sloane, but sighed when the landline on the column nearby rang. She walked over and picked I up. “Spice and Tea...”

“ _Rosalee, it's me._ ”

Rosalee gasped and then clutched the phone in relief. “Monroe?” Sloane straightened and stood slightly from her chair. “Where are you?”

“ _We're at the airport_. _We're due into Portland at 9:50 tomorrow morning._ ”

“Did you find anything?” she asked.

“ _I probably shouldn't talk about it on the phone. Don't say a word to anyone, but let's just say it wasn't for nothing.”_

“ _Is Sloane there?_ ” she heard Nick ask dimly.

“ _Hey, is Sloane there_?”

“She is,” she said, smiling and looking at her. She could tell she wanted to ask if Nick was there.

“ _Nick wants to talk to her,_ ” Monroe said, his voice a little teasing.

Rosalee smiled and offered her friend the phone. “It's Nick.”

Sloane swallowed, looking a nervous, but took the phone with a deep breath. “Nick?”

“ _Hey, I just saw your text, I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner,_ ” he said, sounding sincerely sorry.

She smiled. “That’s fine, I figured you might be busy. But are you okay?”

“ _I’m fine. We’re coming home, we’ll be in Portland at 9:50 tomorrow morning._ ”

“We’ll pick you up then,” Sloane said, relieved.

“ _Great…I, um…I look forward to seeing you.”_

“Me too,” she said, blushing a bit. Neither of them were sure what to say they realized.

“ _Y-yeah…Anyway, I just wanted you to know that we're okay, and I'll see you soon._ ”

“Right. Have a safe flight.” She smiled and handed the phone back to Rosalee.

“Monroe? Love you.”

“ _I love you._ ”

Sloane felt a little envious how easily they said that to one another and sighed softly.

\------------------------

Adalind paced slightly, feeling nervous. She’d tried making tea earlier and had only realized she hadn’t turned the burner on but still heated up to tea for several minutes. Her powers were still growing after only a few hours. And now she had to confess that to someone else.

“You’re making Diana nervous,” Kelly said. “Heck, you’re making me nervous, I can hear you pacing.

She sighed and stopped. “You sure we have to do this? I told you…”

“And I accept it. I had to get used to Diana’s powers. At least you know what you’re doing, I assume. When you’re not panicking.”

“But do I have to tell him? I mean, I know I have to tell Sean, but…”

There was a knock at the door and she froze like a deer in the headlights. Kelly sighed and stood, going over to open the door. “Hello, Meisner, Susannah. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Of course,” he said, walking inside. “We were already in the area. We can’t stay for too long though.”

“Hey Diana,” Susannah said with a smile. “I haven’t gotten to see you in a bit, you’ve grown more!”

“Birdy!”

She smiled and whistled like a bird for her in a perfect imitation. Meisner smiled at Diana’s happy squeal but then frowned when he turned to see Adalind wringing her hands nervously. “What is wrong?”

“…Everything?” she asked.

“Adalind?” Susannah asked, worried now.

“…Please, please don’t…don’t take her away,” Adalind said, trying to keep calm.

“Adalind, if this is about not giving Diana the suppressant, we already told you it’s fine,” she said. “Meisner and I aren’t going to let them take her.”

“It’s not just Diana…My powers are coming back too.” 

Both of them froze a moment, glancing at one another then back at her. “They are?” Meisner asked, concerned.

“Yes…I was never sure how long the suppressant would last. And I had a little left but…it ended up breaking and spilling. And making more is likely not going to happen.”

“I broke it,” Diana said, looking chastised. “It was bad…”

Adalind sighed but nodded.

Meisner nodded slowly. Suzannah though was the one to speak up. “So…Is this a bad thing?”

Adalind looked at her. “Well…I mean, now both she and I have our powers. Wont’ your superiors be…upset?”

“Our superiors can stuff it.”

“Suzannah,” Meisner said, though he didn’t sound like he disagreed.

“No. I’m not letting them keep freaking her out like this, trying to lord it over her head. It’s awful! No mother should have to fear losing her child because of this.”

Meisner sighed but nodded. “I know. I agree. In this case, I think again what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“You’re really okay with that?” Adalind asked, shocked. “I mean, lying about Diana and now me?”

“I use their resources to get things done. That does not mean I have to agree with how they want to do things. I have no doubt they hope to use Diana as some kind of pawn one day…if we can prevent that somehow, the better. And part of that is also ensuring you are not under their thumb,” he said.

“…thank you,” she said, nodding and breathing for what felt like the first time all day.

“That being said, you need to be stronger, Adalind.”

“Stronger?” she asked, frowning.

“You are a mother. You can’t be panicking every time something happens, fearing we will take her away. You have to fight!”

“He’s right,” Suzannah said. “I know you have more fire in you, girl.”

“It’s the fire I’m scared of,” she said, grimacing. “When I give into it, I tend to get people hurt…”

“When you don’t focus it properly that happens. But you have no reason to here. We are your friends. If HW or the men in charge tried to hurt you or Diana, we would fight for you. But you must also be ready to fight for yourself and your daughter.”

“Yeah. And if your powers help with that, keep them,” Suzannah said. “We trust you.”

“…Thank you,” she sighed. She walked forward and hugged Suzannah, then turned and hugged Meisner a little tighter. “I appreciate this…really…”

Meisner hesitated but then hugged her back. Suzannah quired a brow but then smiled at him knowingly. He blushed and cleared his throat. “This is the least we could do I think…”

“But it means a lot to me,” Adalind said. “Just…knowing you, and knowing Rosalee and Kelly have my back…I guess I’m still getting used to not having to look out for myself because no one else will.”

Meisner smiled and then pulled out a notebook. Writing something down with the small pen, he handed it to her. “This is my private number. You need us, you call. Or if you wish to talk…that is good too.”

Adalind was surprised but took it then smiled. “Thanks…”

“Oh, here’s mine too,” Suzannah said, taking it to write hers down. “Though I’m sure Mr. Smooth here wasn’t thinking I’d add it.

Meisner blushed and coughed. “Suzannah…”

Adalind blushed as well but smiled. “Thank you. Both of you. I owe you. Oh, and I guess it works out. I to the next round of interviews.”

“That’s great!” Suzannah said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll get the job. Right, Martin?”

“Yes. I’m sure too.”

“He gave you a super glowing recommendation. Like, two pages long.”

“Suzannah,” he sighed again, blushing.

Adalind smiled, blushing a little too. “Thank you…I know you can’t stay long, but can I at least get you something to drink?”

“I think we can stay for a drink,” Suzannah said before Meisner could answer. He sighed but nodded and sat down, knowing he was going to be outvoted. He really didn’t mind either.

\------------------------

Renard was at the hospital after a call from the doctors. He watched Andrew in the room hooked up to machines that were helping him breathe. “…What’s the prognosis?”

“Still early to tell,” the doctor sighed. “We were able to remove the bullet, however it already caused a lot of damage. His kidney was nicked due to the angle, it perforated his intestines, and it ricocheted into his hip joint. He’ll likely need a lot of recovery time, physical therapy and more and even then he may need a cane.”

Renard sighed and rubbed over his eyes. “But he’ll live?”

“Again, I can’t say for certain. We don’t deal in absolutes. We did our best in surgery but a lot depends on keeping him still and monitoring him for infection. The next 48 hours are the most crucial.”

“Okay. I want to put a guard on his room.”

“I’ll accept it. For now he’s going to be under heavy sedation for pain and to keep him still.”

He nodded and gestured to one of the officers nearby to take the door. Renard started heading for the door, his mind buzzing. Before getting the call Andrew was out of surgery after 8 hours, he’d been looking at the footage of the shooting. Hoping to see something that could help get the man that shot him. No angles hit the fatal window though. What he did see that put him on edge though was Rachel taking a call just a minute before the shot—and looking right in the direction the bullet came from. It was an intentional look as well. That put things in a light that raised a lot of questions and concerns.

Moving to head back out, he paused when his cellphone buzzed and took it out once outside. It was nighttime, getting late, and he was really not in the mood for a phone call. He didn’t recognize the number either. But it was his work phone so whoever was calling would have to have a good reason. “Renard,” he said. _Why would she kill her own candidate? What had Dixon ever done to her or to deserve this?_ Those were the sort of questions plaguing him now.

“Captain Renard. You’re currently at Overton Medical, correct?”

Renard paused then looked around him. “Who is this?”

“Someone trying to help. You’re looking for the man who shot Andrew Dixon, correct? Well…he happens to be coming out that door soon. Funny coincidence, them being in the same hospital.”

Renard looked back at the door then at the phone before holding it back to his ear. “I’ll ask again, who is this.”

“Just be ready.”

They hanged up and Renard glared before looking at the door. He stepped to the side and waited, just curious he told himself. Then a man limped out the door. He had bleach blonde hair and a clean face, but the tan skin and high cheekbones reminded him of the picture Sloane showed him. He watched the man step out and look at his phone. He was waiting to be picked up. He looked around and then froze when their eyes met. He turned away and began walking up the sidewalk.

Renard hesitated, remembering what Sloane said. That Meisner let Hanano go to track more Black Claw members. And then he remembered Andrew lying in that hospital bed. Maybe about to die. Definitely with his life forever changed. His feet were moving before he really knew they were. Hanano headed for a set of stairs leading down to a park nearby and Renard followed him. He paused part way down and looked up at him. “Can I help you?” he asked, testy.

“…Depends. Did you happen to shoot my friend today?”

He smiled and huffed out a laugh. “No? Look, I got hit by a bike, I’m kind of tired and I’m going home.” He turned to keep walking.

“If you’re planning on traveling under “Marwan Hanano”, you better think again. I put out an alert to flag that name at all airports, bus stops, train stations…the works. They have your picture too.” Hanano paused and looked back at him as he stepped down the stairs. “Why don’t you make this easy on both of us?”

“Why would I do that? I haven’t done anything. Nothing you can prove.”

Renard’s jaw ticked and he glared at him. “I my detective saw you. You might’ve seen her too. She’s a Grimm. And she knows you’re and Uhranuti. And don’t keep playing done because we both know I’m going to have you in handcuffs going to the station at the end of this.”

Hanano glared and then woged into a big, black bird. Giving a cry like a bird of prey he lunged, trying to go for Renard’s throat with his sharp beak. Renard jumped back and glared, woging as well. He brought his fist up and punched Hanano in the face, hard enough his beak moved with the blow. He staggered but socked him back and they began tussling on the stairs. Renard hissed when his shoulder was cut but sharp talons. Hanano shouted when another blow cracked his beak. Renard vaulted over the railing between them, then swung back around and kicked him. Hanano hissed and tried to go for his neck again, digging his talons into Renard’s arm. Renard grabbed the other man’s head with a palm to the brow and struggled to keep it away from his jugular. With a kick to the knee and a push Hanano stumbled, his foot catching the edge of the stairway, and he screamed as he fell backwards down the steep concrete steps. Renard gasped but was too late—he laid crumpled with his neck bent at an awkward angle, his head bleeding. He woged back with his eyes still staring vacantly. Renard woged back as well and cursed under his breath.

“Is someone there?” a voice called down.

Renard looked up and sighed, bracing himself. “Get help!”

“What? Who’s there?” The man came closer, revealing he was one of the hospital security guards. His jaw dropped and he moved for his gun but Renard quickly grabbed his wallet and held open his badge.

“I’m Captain Sean Renard! This is the man that shot Andrew Dixon—get help!”

\-----------------------------

Sloane was trying to relax. It was hard because anticipation was coursing through her—both in Nick coming home an finding out what he found. She was cleaning some of the weapons from Josef Nebojsa’s collection—shining, sharpening, oiling and the like. Most were in decent condition and needed only a little TLC to get them ready. She took the opportunity to finally go through what the others had managed to save from the fire in her home as well. It was more than she first thought, which made her happy. _Maybe I should bring the rest of Oma’s collection here…But I’d want a more secure place for everything. If we could get that door open, maybe it would lead somewhere good for that?_ She mused on similar thoughts before pausing when her phone rang. She looked at it and frowned before answering. “Captain?”

“Sloane. I need to talk to you about something important,” he said. He sounded unusually strained. “Can you meet me back at the precinct?”

“Uh…now?” she looked at the clock, noting it was close to 11Pm. She’d been planning to try and sleep before Nick and Monroe’s flight came in.

“Yes. It’s urgent. I’ll be in the parking garage.”

“…Okay, I’ll be there soon.” She hanged up and sighed before getting some clothes not covered in dirt and oil on and going down to her car. When she arrived at the precinct, she was surprised to see Renard was arguing with Meisner.

“…We had his phone; we had every contact, every call, everyone he was working with!”

“You knew what he did,” Renard accused.

“We needed him alive!”

“Then you should have told me!”

Sloane came jogging up, looking between them. “Whoa, hey, guys. I don’t know if this is supposed to be a secret argument but it kind of echoes in here.”

Meisner looked at her in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She pointed at Renard. “He called me. Something urgent?”

Renard sighed and looked at her. “Yes. There was an incident at the hospital.”

“Is your friend okay?” Sloane asked, concerned.

“He’s still alive…barely. The next 48 hours are the most critical. But that’s not the issue.”

“No, yes, please tell her the issue,” Meisner said. His accent seemed thicker when he was upset.

Renard glared at him then looked back at her. “…Hanano was there.”

Her eyes widened. “At the same hospital?”

“Yes. I confronted him—and intended to take him alive!” he said, glaring at Meisner again.

“You killed him?” she said, surprised again.

“By accident! I was trying to bring him in for questioning, he fought back, he ended up falling down the stairs.”

“Bringing him in would’ve compromised our work as well!”

“You expected me to just let him go?” he growled.

“She did!”

“Whoa, hey, I let him go under the impression we’d still get him later,” Sloane said, holding up her hands. “Also, I don’t blame him for going after the guy that nearly killed a friend. I’ve killed people for less. And so have you I’m betting.”

Meisner narrowed his eyes but sighed. “Months of work has been for nothing now.”

“Frustrating, yes, but there was the chance it would happen anyway.”

“But how did you even know he was at a hospital?” Meisner said, looking at Renard again.

“…I got a tip.”

“From whom? Who could give you that kind of tip?” he barked.

“I don’t know!”

Meisner looked even angrier. “You were set up.”

“By who?” he asked, incredulous.

“The people who brought him here, Black Claw! You destroyed months of work!”

“Then you should have said something! Sloane was the one keeping me more in the loop!”

“Maybe I should not trust either of you then!”

“SHUT IT!”

Both men jumped and looked at Sloane. She messaged her temples slightly, having used a bit of her Grimm aura in her voice, which always gave her a headache. She knew Renard felt it, she wasn’t sure about Meisner since he was human. But her tone probably made up for that. “Okay…let’s calm down and actually _talk_ about this, hm? Instead of trying to measure each other like a couple of hormonal teens in a locker room,” she said, letting her annoyance seep into her voice. The men looked at one another, blushing slightly. “Meisner has a point. Someone knew Hanano was there. They told you probably hoping you would confront him. Maybe even kill him. And if it wasn’t someone in HW, Black Claw makes the most sense.”

Meisner looked at Renard with a touch of smugness and he sneered a bit but looked back at Sloane with more curiosity. “Why?”

“That we don’t know. Maybe they figured you would tie up the loose ends for them without drawing a lot of attention. “Police captain tracks down man who tried to kill friend, kills him trying to take him in after a fight.” Sounds good on paper.” She gently poked at the cut on his shoulder. “And he did fight back obviously.”

“Yeah…” He sighed and looked at Meisner. “I didn’t want to kill him. But I didn’t want him to get away either.”

“…I am not happy, but I understand,” he sighed after a prodding looking from Sloane. “But this makes things complicated. We’re back to square one.”

“You have his phone though, right?” Sloane asked.

“Any contacts on there will likely be changing their numbers so it’s no good,” he sighed.

“…I may…know someone,” Renard said slowly.

“What?” they both asked.

“…I’m not sure. I saw something when I looked at footage of the rally and…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I want to try and confirm it first if I can before I go accusing people.”

Sloane arched her brow and Meisner glared. “If you know something, tell me now.”

“I don’t _know_ anything,” he ground out. “I was a detective once and a good one. I’m not going to make baseless accusations and ruin someone’s life when I think we’ve established we don’t trust one another. Or maybe I’ll tell Adalind and she can let you know at your next tea party.”

Meisner glared back and then turned and stalked off. Sloane looked at Renard, unsure. “Just had to get another jab in, huh?”

“I don’t take being blamed for mucking up a plan I had no part in because he refuses to communicate,” Renard said.

“And what you just did was…different?” she asked. “Also weird jab about the tea party.”

“You don’t forget when you see a grown man in a feather boa.” Sloane waited for clarification on that but he just sighed and dropped it annoyingly fast. “…I will let you know if anything comes from what I investigate.”

“Me?” she asked, surprised.

“He trusts you. I trust you. I leave it to you what he needs to know.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be your mediator,” she said, folding her arms.

“I think we’ve established we don’t work well together. But this is important. You know it too.”

“…Fine,” she sighed, throwing her hands up. “Let me know what you find out.”

“…I was going to tell you before actually, but I want to do that investigating first now. I also need you to go identify Hanano in the morgue for the FBI, let them know he’s definitely the one you saw.”

“Yeah, okay, I can do that too,” she sighed. “I’m taking tomorrow off though, Nick’s coming back.”

“…Where was he anyway?” Renard asked, a hint of suspicion.

Sloane looked back at him, her face neutral. “It’s personal.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Family stuff. I don’t know all the details.” _I mean, his ancestor might be one of those templars who knows? I guess I should look at that book more closely…_

“…Alright then. I’ll see you later.”

She nodded, going inside to head to the morgue. Admittedly she was a lot more tired and ready to sleep now after dealing with two men and their egos.

\-------------------------------

Sloane waited by baggage claim, trying not to be too anxious. Though they didn’t check any bags, it’s where they’d agreed to meet when she texted she would pick them up. Around her she saw several people gleefully welcome loved ones—parents, kid’s, friends and lovers. Lovers were easy to spot with how they would kiss hello. _Do I do that? Can I do that? Would Nick freak out? Am I freaking out? Godammit, I wish we’d had time to talk about this more!_

The anxious feeling lifted when she saw Nick and Monroe coming down the escalator. Sloane caught herself waving at them and Nick smiled and waved back. Monroe moved to do so but winced and put his arm back down. Once at the bottom they ran over to her. Nick hesitated a moment, looking uncertain. “H-hey…”

“Hey,” she said back, smiling happily back but hesitating.

“Oh my God, hug, kiss, whatever you want to do; then let’s get to the car,” Monroe groaned. Nick and Sloane blushed and gave him annoyed looks and he smiled ruefully. “Sorry, just excited…also in pain.”

“Pain?” Sloane asked.

“I got bit…been trying to hide and deal with it the flight over,” Monroe said.

“…Okay, we should get you to Rosalee then,” Sloane said. She looked at Nick and he nodded, following her to the car. Nick started calling the others to meet them at the shop.

Once they were there, Rosalee excitedly hugged Monroe, then fretted over him when she realized he was hurt. Nick took the chest out of its hiding place in the material and set to work lockpicking it—Sloane offered but he wanted to show off he’d been practicing since she showed him last year. Wu and Hank arrived while he worked and quieted when Sloane put a finger to her lips to let Nick concentrate. Rosalee meanwhile helped Monroe take off his coat and then look over the wound—he’d cleaned it as best he could but the skin was puffy and an angry red.

“This does not look good. I think it's infected. How does it feel?” she asked softly, concerned.

“It hurts…” Monroe said, grimacing at it. He looked pale and sweaty as well.

“You could have blood poisoning. I think we should get you to a doctor…”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely…after we get the box open though.”

Rosalee sighed and looked at Nick. He was on the last lock and moving the picks carefully. It was old after all. He’d sprayed both air and oil into them to help make sure the tumblers moved alright but it was still tough. Finally though he heard a click and smiled triumphantly. “Got it. Get your keys.” They grabbed up keys and Nick let Sloane have his since he picked the locks. Before they put them in though he put a hand on the lid and bowed his head solemnly. “I hope whatever's in here is worth it for everyone who died.” Monroe closed his eyes, nodding slightly as he thought about his uncle. Rosalee frowned in sympathy, as did the others. “Ready?” They nodded and “Now.”

They all inserted the keys and gave a turn in unison, the five locks clicking in chorus. Removing them again, Nick took a breath and grabbed the edges of the lid and lifted. Or tried to. He frowned and repositioned his hands, pulling harder. “It's not opening…”

“What do you mean, it's not opening?” Monroe said, looking ready to chuck the box against the wall. “The keys all clicked!”

“It's got to take more than the keys,” Rosalee sighed.

“Why? Why does it have to take more than the keys? They're just locks. If they lock, they should open. That's what locks do!” he snapped.

“Well, technically I think they keep people out…or something in,” Sloane said.

“There's some stuff between the lid and the box,” Hank said, leaning down to look closer. “Looks like some kind of sealant.”

“What kind of sealant holds for 800 years?” Rosalee asked, looking close as well.

“Well, they were all Grimms…” Nick said.

“Look, I'm just spit balling here, but your blood did take away Adalind's powers, right?” Monroe said. “So maybe, I don't know...”

Nick looked to Rosalee. “Will you get me a knife?”

“Whoa, hold on, I’m a Grimm too,” Sloane said. “I can do this.”

Nick frowned and they stared one another down before Rosalee held up two knives. “Why don’t you both do it? Two might be better than one.”

They looked at one another and nodded, each taking a blade. Taking a breath, the each cut their fingers enough to let blood well up. Sloane took two edges and Nick took the other two as they worked the blood around.

“If this doesn't work, I'm busting out the freaking hacksaw,” Monroe said, staring daggers at the box.

“I think we have an angle grinder at the loft…” Sloane muttered. They took their hands away and waited a moment, watching the strange substance absorb their blood. After a second there was a hiss and then with a puff of smoke it disappeared, making them all jump. They looked at one another and broke into a fit of chuckles at the fact that it worked.

“Oh, my God,” Nick said, smiling at Sloane. She smiled back and nodded to him. He grasped the lid again and pulled, almost too hard as it came completely off easily now and he almost stumbled after expecting another fight. They grinned and Hank took the lid to set aside as they all leaned in to see what was inside. Expectations, as high as they were, drifted down a little when all they saw was what looked like a bundle of cloth.

“Okay, there better be something inside that…” Monroe said.

Nick agreed and reached in, carefully grasping the cloth to pull it out. He sighed in relief when he felt something hard inside it. “Oh, okay. There is.”

He set it down and began unfolding it carefully from the aged and worn material—some sort of linen he thought. It was old, rough, stained and had a couple of holes in it. When he got to the end he carefully unfolded the last edge to reveal…

“It's a stick?” Monroe said, incredulous. Indeed, the thing inside was long, slightly curved, and a yellow-brown stick.

“Looks like a stick,” Hank said.

“A really old stick,” Wu added dryly.

“It can't be just a stick!” Rosalee said.

“Well, that's what it looks like. They wouldn't have buried a stick unless they were some kind of dog Wesen!” Sloane looked at him and he glared. “Don’t you start.”

“Maybe it's some kind of important stick that belongs to a bigger... piece of wood that means something to somebody,” Hank said.

“Well, if it was a stick-mata...Sorry, that was a reach,” Wu sighed.

“Maybe it's something like a stick from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil,” Rosalee suggested.

“You're talking about the tree that Eve picked the apple from in the garden of Eden?” Hank asked.

“If that's the case, then we just flew halfway across the world and risked our lives for a stick that has screwed up all of humanity since the beginning of time,” Monroe groused, glaring at it as Sloane picked it up to look it over.

“Maybe that's why they buried it in the first place, 'cause the gates of hell are gonna open up and the world as we know it is gonna end,” Wu said in a dull monotone.

“On that thought, maybe you should put it back,” Rosalee grimaced.

“The last thing we want are the gates of hell opening up in Portland,” Nick said.

“Oh, just wait till we tell you what we’ve been dealing with,” Hank sighed. He looked at Sloane as she was staring over the stick and frowned. “You okay?”

Sloane pursed her lips and then lifted the stick up and pressed her tongue to it. Everyone else stared.

“Whoa, okay! What the heck?!” Monroe asked.

Sloane smacked her lips and then turned to the nearby sink and spat. “Okay, good news and bad news.”

“…What’s the good news? It tastes like chicken?” Wu asked, still looking at her like she’d finally lost it.

“It’s not a stick. Not wood.” She spat again and Nick frowned in concern.

“What is it then?”

“It’s bone.”

They all stared again and Rosalee quickly got her a glass of water while Nick took the bone from her. “So you licked it?!” Hank asked.

“That’s how I could be sure!” Sloane said, she accepted the water and swished it around before spitting again. “Dried bone is porous—it sticks to your tongue. If it was wood, it’d have to be preserved somehow to still be in this kind of shape. But also, it’s not the right texture or color, or shape. It’s probably a rib bone.”

“Is that the bad news?” Wu asked.

“Well…it’s likely human. That’s the bad news,” she said, taking a drink of the water.

“…Okay, not to get back to the Bible, but didn’t God take one of Adam’s ribs?”

“To make Eve,” Hank said, shaking his head. “I don’t think they’d put it in a box.”

“Then why would they?” Monroe said, looking more confused and perturbed. As well as sweatier.

“Okay, we can theorize later,” Rosalee said, going grab his coat from the peg by the stairs. “Now let's get you to a doctor and get your arm looked at before it falls off.”

Monroe sighed but nodded and almost stood till Wu held up a hand. “Oh, whoa, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold…There's... there's some writing on this cloth.” He said, pointing to the linen still on the table. They leaned in to look, just barely able to make out the faint markings of ink in the linen.

“I have no idea what language this is. Do you?”

“It’s too faint…” Sloane said, squinting a little. “That box wasn’t as airtight as they’d hoped maybe…”

Monroe was looking at it too but then began to sway a little, his eyes feeling heavy. Rosalee was coming back with his coat and stalled in concern. “Monroe? What's wrong?”

“Huh?” He blearily looked at her. “I, uh...I don't, uh...” He stood slowly from the stool, only to begin tipping backwards.

“Monroe!” Nick shouted, Hank and him both quickly grabbing him as the others bolted to their feet and came over. Monroe groaned, his head lolling from side to side as the room began to spin and it felt like his body was floating away.

“He's passing out. Come on!” Nick said. “Get him down!”

Rosalee was hovering, looking close to tears as they pulled him to the stairs to set him down. “It must be his arm!”

Monroe groaned, looking at them through hazy eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” Nick said, trying to smile through his worry. “All right?”

Sloane quickly took the bandage off and sucked in a breath at the black edges around the wound. “Oh, my God…this is bad.”

“Oh, I knew it. It's blood poisoning,” Rosalee said, shaking. “Quick, we need a tourniquet, somebody! Put it on his arm before any more infection gets to his heart!”

“We can use my belt,” Hank said, already unbuckling it and pulling it through. Sloane took it and looped it around Monroe’s arm quickly, pulling it hard to try and slow the blood flow.

“Call 911!” Nick said. Wu grabbed his phone to dial quickly. Nick looked back and pried one of his eyes open. It was glassy and seemed to be losing a lot of the light inside. “I think he's going into shock!”

“We need an ambulance. Got a medical emergency,” Wu was saying.

“I’ve got it as tight as it will go. Now what?” Sloane said, securing the belt.

“We can't wait for an ambulance, we have to get him to a hospital,” Rosalee said, her voice sharp despite the rational orders. Wu hanged up and came over to help them.

“Get him up. Let's get him up, come on,” Nick said. The pulled him up, Hank on one side and Nick on the side with his wound. They’d all forgotten about the bone he still held in his hand, focused on trying to get Monroe upright enough they could get him up the stairs and cursing they’d decided to do this in the shop’s basement.

“Come on, we got you,” Sloane said, her heart hammering. No matter how she teased him, no matter how she felt about most Blutbad still, Monroe was not someone she wanted to bury. And she didn’t want Rosalee to go through that either.

Monroe grunted and then seemed to go limp. There was a moment of panic and they were about to army carry him up the stairs when Nick froze. “Wait, wait!”

“Nick, we can't wait!” Rosalee said.

“Look at his arm,” Nick ordered. They all looked as well and the room went eerily quiet as the wound had shrunk. And it continued to shrink before their eyes.

“What's happening?” Rosalee asked, staring with an awed, transfixed gaze.

Nick looked up at Monroe who looked serene now, not feverish or in pain like before. “I don't know…”

“It's getting better...” Hank said. The black edges turned pink again, the muscles filled in, the skin knitted back together. It was weeks, even months of healing in a matter of seconds. Soon enough, the skin looked only slightly reddened. Not even a scar was left.

“Anyone want to take a stab at explaining that?” Wu asked.

“Not me,” Hank said, shaking his head.

“I've never seen anything like that…” Rosalee said, holding the arm in confusion.

“I haven’t either,” Sloane said. She looked at Nick, eyes wide, and they both looked at the bone.

Then their eyes shot to Monroe as he took a deep, gasping breath, as if coming up for air from below water. He blinked, his eyes searching and locking on to Rosalee. She smiled in relief at the brightness in them, the clarity back from the fever hazing over them. “What did you do?” Monroe asked, knowing he’d been in bad shape a second ago. He flexed his arm and felt the tourniquet first, looking at it in confusion, then at his arm which was now whole and healed. His eyes widened and he looked at them all. “What happened?”

“It closed up,” Hank said, staring dumbly at his arm.

“Yeah, the wound just kind of faded away…” Nick nodded.

“But how?” Monroe asked. He took the belt off his arm, flexing it and turning it. Hank took his belt back, holding it.

“Did that really just happen?” Wu asked, still uncertain.

“We all saw it so yeah…” Sloane said.

“I can't believe it…How do you feel?” Rosalee asked, pushing his hair back.

“Fine, I think,” Monroe said.

“However it happened, it's not normal,” Hank said.

“Oh what about any of this is normal?” Sloane said.

“Well, the last thing that happened was, I grabbed you…” Nick said.

“With the bone in your hand,” Rosalee nodded.

“So we're thinking this is some kind of healing stick-magic wand thing? Or bone…thing?” Wu asked.

Sloane frowned then reached and took Nick’s hand. “…Your cut is healed.”

Nick stared at his hand, realizing she was right. He took her hand and then pressed the bone into it. The small cut healed in a matter of seconds and they all watched. “Holy crap…” Monroe said.

Sloane gripped the bone and walked back over. Grabbing the knife, Nick moved to stop her but she slit her palm wide open with a grunt over the sink, letting the blood well up and overflow. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge the pain. Grabbing the bone in her other hand, she waited and then ran it under the tap.

“Sloane?” Nick asked.

She stared at her hand then held it up, showing not even a mark despite the slight tinge of red still around the lines of her palm. “I didn’t even hold it near the wound…”

“This is…cool but kind of scary,” Wu said. “I mean, what kind of bone does that?”

“What about the cloth it was wrapped in?” Hank said quickly. “It had some kind of writing on it.”

“I couldn't tell if it was writing or not,” Nick said.

“Yeah, that just could be marks,” Monroe said, standing. Rosalee hovered by him but he smiled reassuringly as he walked over to the table again.

“If it is writing, maybe it tells us what that thing is,” Rosalee said.

“Well, even so, it might not be the bone. It could be the cloth or even the box,” Nick said.

“Like what, they rapped some random dude’s rib in the cloth, put it in the box for 800 years and it became a magical cure-all? …Okay, now that I say it out loud, not the most outlandish theory,” Sloane said, wiping her hand after setting the bone down. “But I still think it’s more likely they hid this rib for a reason.”

“Yeah, in a crypt full of other bones. I mean they could’ve hid a tree in a forest, but they wanted to be sure they could find it again,” Monroe said.

“Okay, so if it is the rib, what does that mean?” Wu asked.

“It doesn't mean anything until we figure out how it works,” Nick sighed.

“Well, until we know, it's not a good idea to have it fall into the wrong hands,” Hank pointed out.

“Yeah, which would explain why they buried the thing in the first place,” Monroe said, nodding slowly.

“For right now, nobody can know about this,” Nick said.

“So we keep this to ourselves, right? I mean, we don't tell anyone.”

“No one,” Nick nodded.

“Ironically, just like the Crusaders agreed when they buried this thing 800 years ago,” Rosalee sighed.

“Aside from drawing a literal map to it,” Sloane pointed out.

“Well, obviously they had no idea how to deal with it either. Maybe they meant to come back to it when they knew what to do.”

“It’s going back in the box,” Nick said, rolling it up in the linen. Wu handed him the box and he set it back inside carefully. “At least, until we figure out how to figure out what it is were dealing with.” He closed it up and put it back into his bag. “I’ll hide it somewhere.”

“What should we do with the keys?” Wu asked.

“Well, we have the box…I guess we can keep them for now as souvenirs,” Nick said. He picked the one on the chain, the first one he ever received from his aunt. “But keep them secret still for now.”

They nodded, everyone taking one and then packed up to go home and rest. He sighed when he got in and set the bag down by the couch before flopping back on it and putting an arm over his eyes.

“You okay?” Sloane asked. She sounded close and he sighed again.

“Yeah…just tired.”

“…Sit up a second.” Nick looked up at her where she stood by the couch but did so. She stopped him from turning to sit forward though. Instead she sat down and eased him back so that his head was in her lap. He blushed, looking up at her in surprise. She blushed as well but smiled. “This okay?”

“No, yeah…it’s good,” he said. She smiled and started carding through his hair. He sighed again, this time in contentment as his body started to finally unwind. This was definitely nice. Unexpected, but nice. _I didn’t expect her to be so…tactile. That she’d flip a switch like this. Maybe she likes it too?_ “…How’d you know about the whole bone thing?”

“You mean why did I lick it?”

“Yeah,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

She sighed and kept carding through his hair. “When I was young, I…wanted to be an archeologist.”

Nick looked up at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. Oma always had old stuff around. I didn’t know what most of it was of course, but she would explain history stuff to me. Then she took me on a trip and we went to this museum where you could see some of them working to restore old things and…I thought it was cool. Then we watched _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ and I thought it was _really_ cool.” Nick grinned and she smiled as well. “I used to imagine Harrison Ford was my dad…So I started reading a lot of books on archeology. And dead things, though I kept that more to myself. I remember thinking that little “bone sticks to your tongue” factoid was gross at the time,” she said, smiling ruefully.

“Well, it came in handy,” he said, chuckling. He looked up at her, sighing as she kept her hand in his hair. “I missed you. I know it was just a couple of days but…”

“I missed you too,” she said quietly. “I was worried…and a bit lost. We didn’t get a chance to talk about…well, that night…”

“Yeah…” He looked up at her. “Not having second thoughts are you?”

“No, yes, I am. I just let anyone use my lap for a pillow,” she said, tugging gently at one lock of hair to get a knot out. He chuckled a bit and she smiled more honestly. “I’m not having second thoughts…are you?”

“Only second thoughts I had was going over everything again and trying not to smile too much.” She blushed and he grinned at being the one to do it. Taking her hand, he brought it down and pressed his lips the top, enjoying the slight uptick in her pulse he could feel. “I want to keep going forward with this.”

“Good…Good,” she said, twining their fingers together. “So then…We’re already living together. Um…do we share the same bed now? I mean…every night.”

“I want to,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

“Y-yeah. And…well, our group obviously knows now,” she said, blushing again at the memory. “But how…I mean…” She sighed. “PDA and all that?”

“…You never really did that before?” Nick guessed.

“No. I mean, Collin I guess but we were usually trying not to be seen anyway. Only other relationship I ever had wasn’t one we could be open with for other reasons…” She looked at him and smiled hesitantly. “But it’d be nice…to actually go on a date sometime.”

“Hell yeah,” he grinned and leaned up to kiss her and she sighed happily.

\------------------

The night before, Renard had returned home after his confrontation with Meisner and Sloane in the Precinct Garage. Heading to the door, he paused and turned when he heard someone coming up behind him, ready to fight. That turned into surprise when he saw who it was. “Rachael? What are you doing here?”

“I heard…I heard you found the man who shot Andrew,” she said, looking hopeful.

“…Where did you hear that?” he asked, frowning.

“I have a lot of eyes and ears, Sean,” she smiled.

“…Yes. I found him.”

“You arrested him?”

“…No. He died while I was trying to,” he sighed.

“Oh…” she gasped. He thought he saw a flash of pleasure on her face but she smiled more in relief. “I see…I mean, I know I shouldn’t be pleased someone’s died but…”

“…I know what you mean.”

She moved in closer and pinched the end of his jacket as if to hold him there. “I…know it’s last minute, but…can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” Renard regarded her a moment before nodding and unlocking his door. She followed him in and he locked the door again before turning and pushing her against the wall, kissing her hard.

She grasped his lapels, deepening the kiss back, but he grasped her wrists and slammed them against the wall before pulling back. “I think it's time we play a little rougher…” She smiled till he woged suddenly and squeezed her wrists harder, making her grunt. But she didn’t scream. “You knew Dixon was gonna get shot.” Rachael stared at him a moment before woging into a Lowen, growling and pushing him enough to get him to let her go. He did, backing away and then woging back to his human form, eyeing her. “Who the hell are you working for?”

She growled a moment before changing back and smiling demurely. “The people who are gonna change your life.” She pulled out her phone. “Let me make a call. It’s a little earlier than planned, but I think he’ll be ready to talk to you now. Why don’t you go make some coffee and wait in your office?”

Renard eyed her as she slinked away. He had a bad feeling, but none the less he went and started his coffee maker. After a cup was ready he went to his office and paced rather than drink. He thought about calling someone—Meisner, Sloane, Nick even. But he wasn’t sure who would listen to him. Plus, this might be an opportunity.

A little while later he heard the door open and then footsteps coming up the hall. Rachael opened the door with a smile and then gestured for another man to come in. He was about Renard’s age, but more rugged than his clean-cut image. Five o’clock shadow, mussed hair, simple and efficient clothing.

“Lucien...Sean Renard,” Rachael said, presenting them to each other.

The man smiled. “Nice place.”

Renard narrowed his eyes. “You want to tell me what's going on?”

Lucien smiled and handed Rachel a paper tube in his hand before walking forward. “Dixon was meant to die, and you were meant to kill the man that killed him.”

Renard stared, gripping the edge of the desk. He recognized that voice. “You were the one that told me Marwan was in the hospital…”

“And you're a Zauberbiest. Which makes you one of us.” He spread his hands, offering something intangible to him. “We could make you the most powerful man in the city. And that's only the beginning.”

“…But Andrew isn’t dead.”

“That’s fixable.”

“And I don’t want him dead,” he ground out.

Lucien frowned but Rachael quickly stepped forward. “That’s fine. I know it seems heartless, and Andrew was a good man. But he wasn’t the man we need. He was human. And currently he’s out of commission, he’s not going to be able to stay in the race. He’s going to be tied up for a while. Recovery. Physical therapy. All that.” She looked at Lucien. “Our plan is still solid even with him alive. Sean is still a hero.” Lucien sighed but nodded, acquiescing to her logic.

“…You're Black Claw.”

They looked at him but smiled rather than seeming surprised. “Show him,” Lucien said.

She smiled and undid the paper tube, pulling out a poster inside. Unfurling it, Renard tensed when he saw a portrait of himself done in blue ink, looking off into the distance with a commanding gaze, and behind him was a radiating circle of red stripes. Blue stars were between the red stripes and below his portrait in white letters was his name, _Renard_.

“You got to be kidding…” he murmured. It was a nice poster, he had to admit. Classic but also contemporary. It did give him an odd sense of pride.

“You're a hero,” Rachael said, smiling. “You can win.”

\---------------------------

“Yes, I should’ve called you sooner…yes, I’m sorry. I wanted to be sure everything was normal before I did. …Yes I realize normal is a bit subjective, Aunt Jean, but you know what I mean!” Sloane sighed.

Nick watched her in sympathy as he made breakfast. They’d woken up a little later this morning after sleeping in—not because they’d done anything that kept them up though. Nick had been too jet lagged for that. Instead they talked more the rest of the day, about anything they wanted, and then he took a shower and they headed to bed. There they talked a bit more before falling asleep together and sleeping right through till mid-morning. Sloane had realized the day before she needed to call Mim and Jean and let them know she was now home and fine. What proceeded was more than an hour of explaining, answering questions and apologizing for worrying them.

“I’m sorry, really. But look, we’re about to have breakfast. …Yes I will come down again soon. …What? No! I’m not moving back to Wildred,” she said. Nick looked up, surprised, and then almost laughed at the look of _Can you believe this?!_ She gave him as she gestured to the phone. “Yes I miss you both, but…yes but…no—stop trying to guilt me! …Yes Adalind is still at the house. …No I’m not worried. …Because…uh…” She looked frustrated a moment before holding the phone in front of her. “Because I’m dating Nick and we’re shacking up together!” She quickly hit the disconnect button, blushing and thunking her head to the top of the kitchen island where she sat.

“…Shacking up?” Nick asked, trying not to laugh.

“They frazzled me, Nick.”

“You? The great Grimm, Sloane Larson?”

“Yes. Me. I have been frazzled by two meddling old women.”

“It’s still on by the way.”

Sloane gasped and looked at her phone before glaring at him when she saw she had disconnected properly. “Not helping!”

He laughed and then finished sliding off the last of the pancakes. “Would pancakes, eggs and bacon help you?”

“…Perhaps.”

Sloane quickly texted that she’d call them again later but she wanted them to all cool down a bit and set her phone aside to eat. Nick sat next to her but paused when he heard his own phone buzz. Picking it up, he realized it was a text from Mim. “Ah. You’re aunts are giving me the “You better treat her right” speech.”

Sloane choked a bit and looked at him. “What?!”

He showed her his screen.

_Mim: Nick. You are a nice boy. We like you. But if you hurt Sloane, we will hunt you down and disembowel you, Grimm or no Grimm. >3_

“The hell is that at the end…?” she said, staring at it with embarrassment and befuddlement.

“I think it’s meant to be some kind of emoji…”

She groaned and then started laughing. “Oh my God…you sure you want to deal with me and them?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“…The syrup’s sweet enough,” she said, blushing. Nick just smiled and kept eating. After learning she’d had no real experience with a nice, stable relationship, he was determined to acclimate her to being cared for and sweet gestures and the like. After breakfast and clearing the dishes, she headed towards the bathroom and paused. “…hey, uh…what do we do with…”

Nick looked at her and followed her gaze down to the bag by the couch. They’d managed to put yesterday out of their minds for the most part, but they couldn’t put it off forever. He sighed and walked over, pulling the bundle out from inside the bag. He’d wrapped it back in the cloth Leo gave him to keep it all together without locking it again. “…We haven’t put a safe in yet.”

“I’m still willing to do that if we can settle on a location,” Sloane said.

“We can, but that’ll still take some time…” He looked around then nodded to the far wall. “I guess the most secure place we have?”

“Technically I guess it is,” she nodded. She went over and opened the wall door for him so he could go down. “We still need to get that door open too…”

“I might only have one miracle lock opening in me a week,” Nick sighed. Sloane took the chest from him so he could climb down, then lowered it to him. “I’ll find a place. You go take your shower.”

“Okay.” She turned to head away and Nick looked around before finding an area where the bricks were weak down near the bottom. Not in a way that worried him, but in a way that made pulling them out with a little strength and finding enough pace behind them to shove the chest.

_Just like old times, huh, freaky bone thing?_

After both of them showered—separately, he could admit temptation but decided that might be too much too soon—they headed over to Monroe and Rosalee’s to check on them after calling. Rosalee opened the door and smiled. “Hey, come on in.”

“Hey. How you two doing?” Nick asked. He looked at Monroe, who was sitting on the couch with his laptop on the table in front of him.

“Feeling good after a nice long sleep,” Monroe said. “Arm’s still healed, no side effects I can tell…”

“We’ve been trying to look things up. I even checked a few wesen only websites,” Rosalee sighed.

“Those exist?” Sloane asked.

“Oh yeah. You need to know what to search and where to look though, we don’t want just anyone finding them,” Monroe said.

“But none of them had anything on “bones” or “templars” or the like…this might be more of a Grimm thing.”

“…We have some online message boards for info, but the older Grimms don’t really use it. And I’d hesitate to put it out there, honestly,” Sloane sighed. “I’m not sure who to trust with all this.” Nick nodded, sighing as well.

“What do you usually use them for?” Rosalee asked curiously.

“Oh, it’s usually to track things down. Info on wesen, old books or weapons, rare ingredients…things like that. But it can turn into a gossip mine real fast.”

“Ah, damn,” Nick cursed. Sloane looked at him in confusion and he blushed. “I need to give you your knew knife…I forgot about it with everything else going on.”

“Oh yeah, it’s nice,” Monroe smiled.

She smiled at Nick. “Leo came through?”

“Yeah. In more ways than one, he gave us a cloth that made getting the chest through customs easier.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty smart,” she nodded.

“Kind of…out there, too,” Monroe said.

“He’s just very dedicated to his craft,” Sloane said, shrugging. She paused when she felt a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out her phone and blinked in surprise. “Cynthia’s calling…”

“Gallin?” Rosalee asked in surprise.

She nodded and answered the call. “Hey, Cynthia. What’s up?”

“Hey! I’m just letting you know Dr. Hier’s ready to meet you.”

“…Who?”

“Dr. Hier! Victoria Hier! Your new Librarian!” she reminded her.

“Oh? Oh! She’s here?” Sloane asked, excited.

“Yeah! She wants to meet you guys first though. Um… _all_ of you.”

She quirked a brow. “All of us? Really?”

“Yeah. Like I said, she’s cool with the whole wesen team thing. She’s already figured you’ll probably want to take them down there at some point. She’s had the place cleaned and fixed up, and reopened the back entrance.”

“There’s a back entrance?” The others glanced at one another, not sure what she was talking about.

“Yes, but it had to be shut down in the 80s because it nearly got found during some developments. She proposed a few months ago move, update, and reopen it—no more going through the librarians. They finished fixing everything just the other day and she says they’re ready to reopen.”

“That…that is actually great. We could really use the Library right now.” She looked at Nick who nodded quickly, also excited. “So when did she want to meet?”

“Whenever you’re ready. She’ll be there all day today and I can text you where to find the entrance.”

She glanced at the others. “Actually, this is pretty good timing because we need to research some things…”

“Great! I’ll let her know you’re dropping by and send you the back entrance instructions.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Catch up more later?”

“Sounds good!” They hanged up and Sloane looked at them. “Well, a bit of good news finally. The library is up and running.”

“Awesome!” Nick said.

“Yeah, that’s going to be a big asset,” Monroe smiled.

“Yeah. You want to see it?”

“Us?” Rosalee gaped, surprised.

“Yeah, Gallin found someone okay with Grimm/Wesen team ups. She wants to meet all of us and is already there.”

They looked at one another before quickly standing. “I’ll get my coat!”

“Where’s my purse?”

Sloane blinked and then chuckled as they ran around to get ready like children going to a theme park. “I guess that’s a yes…” She looked at Nick. “Think Hank and Wu can meet us there?”

“I think they’d be down to see a secret library. I should call my mom too,” he said, grabbing his phone. Sloane called Wu and Nick called Hank and told them where to meet. He then called and worked out grabbing his mom on the way. Rosalee and Monroe followed their car to the modern looking library. Hank and Wu were both there and waved when they walked up.

“Hey! So this is where that Library is?” Wu asked.

“Almost. It’s more in the secret underground part.”

“…This is so cool,” he muttered.

“I should point out this is a big deal,” Kelly said, holding on to Nick’s arm. “For sure very, very few Kehrseite not related to a Grimm have ever been to a Library. Even fewer wesen…willingly.”

“Just had to add that on,” Monroe muttered. She smiled and Sloane headed to the tree line nearby. A little way into the trees they found what looked like an old stack-stone well.

“This is the entrance?” Nick asked uncertainly.

“Anyone else seen _The Ring_ …?” Wu muttered.

“I’ve met the thing it’s based on,” Sloane said. She took out her wallet and held up her Grimm Library card. “You need a pass.” They watched as she held the card against the lock on the outside of the well’s metal top. The lock lit up with a scrollwork _G_ similar to the card, and they all jumped when the metal top spiraled open and away into the sides of the well. One side then retracted into the ground and they were faced with a ramp going down into the ground.

“Whoa…that’s pretty surprising…” Hank said.

She smiled and leaned in to look. “The ramp goes down a short way. Everyone watch your heads.” They all began descending, their footsteps echoing as they got further into the underground. Once the last of them was down, Sloane pressed a button at the edge of the ramp and the entrance sealed back up. They were in total darkness for just a second when lights lit up over head and down a tunnel.

“This is so cool…” Wu said again.

“They have a secret entrance inside pressing secret buttons on a table too,” Nick smiled. Wu looked excited by all the cloak and dagger mystery.

“It is pretty amazing…how did they get all this done?” Monroe asked.

“Grimms have a lot of connections and researchers. It was about time this library was updated I’m guessing,” Kelly said.

“Now it’s not exactly homey inside, it’s a bit more…” Sloane started, trying to find the words.

“Atomic war bunker?” Nick supplied. Sloane frowned but then nodded with a sigh because the stark concrete walls and fluorescent lighting she remembered did speak to that.

“Always knew Grimms were doomsday survival nuts,” Monroe muttered. “I pictured a mad scientist’s lab though.”

“I was thinking like a gothic mansion’s library,” Hank said.

“The one’s in Europe are more like that,” Kelly said, smiling in amusement.

Sloane rolled her eyes but they got to the door at the end of the hall. She held up her card again to the scanner at the side and they heard the locks click. She opened the door but stopped dead when she saw the inside. The stark concrete walls had been replaced by whitewashed brick. The metal shelves were now wooden in warm walnut tones, some open and some with leaded glass fronts. The space seemed larger—it was about 2000 square feet before and now it was maybe double that. A small area with desks, chairs and an electric fireplace was set up as well for passing Grimms to rest. The fluorescent lights were replaced with bright but more homey sconces and overhead lights that gave plenty of light without feeling like a prison. The posters of wesen anatomy were still hung up, the racks of weapons were still there, but the feeling was more like an actual home library than a bunker.

“I…wow, this is a lot of redecorating,” Sloane said, looking around in surprise.

“It’s nice!” Monroe said, smiling at all of it. “I don’t feel like I’m going to get dissected.”

“Is someone there?”

Sloane looked towards the back, behind the same wooden horseshoe desk that was there before but now didn’t feel so out of place. A door back there was open and she could see a shadow. “Um, yes…Dr. Hier?”

“Yes! Just a moment.” They heard her putting something away and the click of heels on the floor (which they noticed was now painted a dark grey over the concrete, with flecks of copper and polished to a high sheen so it looked almost like marble flooring). The woman who stepped out was tall--able to look Hank in the eyes--with fair skin and green eyes. Her hair hanged down to her mid back in elegant waves of red-brown with a few things of silver. The lines on her face were light but spoke of more smiling than frowning. She was dressed in black slacks and a brightly colored top of that had peacock feathers printed over it.

The moment she stepped in she froze and stared. Though he thought at first she was surprised by their group's size, Nick got a feeling it was someone in particular that had her surprised. He couldn’t tell who though. The moment passed and she smiled warmly. “Welcome! I’m Victoria Hier. Please, call me Victoria,” she said, a very faint accent of some kind rounding her words. She held out her hand and Nick shook it first.

“Nick Burkhardt. This is Sloane Larson.”

“The Grimms of the group, Cynthia’s told me a lot about you,” she smiled. Her hand lingered on Sloane’s a moment before looking at the others.

“My mother is too,” Nick said, gesturing beside him.

“Kelly Kessler,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Oh! I’ve certainly heard of you,” Victoria said, shaking her hand. “You haven’t been seen for a while…”

“Yes, well…losing most of my vision has put me in retirement,” she said. “I’m told you’re a Grimm too? I’m afraid I don’t recognize your name…”

Victoria just smiled. “I have training, but I was never really keen on violence. I trained as a doctor instead, did my best to help that way.” Kelly hummed, but looked a bit like she was unsure about the other woman. Victoria moved on and looked at the rest of the group. “I understand some of you are wesen? Don’t be shy, I try not to be prejudice. I’ve worked with several over the years.”

“That’d be us,” Monroe said, he and Rosalee holding up their hands. “I’m Monroe, and this is my wife, Rosalee.”

“We’re Blutbad and Fuchsbau,” Rosalee added. They were mildly surprised she shook their hands with no hesitation.

“It’s nice to meet you. And who are these two handsome gentlemen?”

“Uh, I’m Drew Wu,” he said, shaking her hand.

“And I’m Hank Griffin. We’re both Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen,” he said.

“Ah, you know your vocabulary,” she smiled. “Well, welcome! I hope you like what I’ve done with the place.”

“It’s great!” Monroe said.

“It is really nice,” Nick nodded. “Before it was, um…”

“Depressing,” Victoria said flatly. “Built during the cold war. If I have to spend much of my time down here, I wanted it to be nice. I took inspiration from some of the older libraries in Europe, particularly in Prague and Paris, but made it a bit American too. That uh… “Contemporary Classic” sort of thing Americans like.”

“It’s lovely,” Rosalee smiled. “And you’re sure it’s alright for us to be here?”

“I say it is, ya. But of course, if and when other Grimms come through, we will have to be discreet.” She put a finger to her lips and wagged her eyebrows playfully and they smiled. “Now, Cynthia said you had things to research?”

They hesitated, looking at one another. “Uh…well, it’s more a general interest?” Nick said.

“General interest?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I’m a history buff,” Monroe said honestly. “And I would love to know if you have anything on medieval history. Preferably like…around the Crusades? Earlier the better,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“The Crusades? My, that is quite some history!” She looked around before motioning them to follow. “I brought with me some of my family’s own collection, as well as documents I was able to find in my own research. I was a medical doctor, but I also have a master’s in history and psychology.”

“That’s…impressive,” Wu said.

“I have always enjoyed knowledge and working. When it came time for retirement, I was worried I would be bored. But Cynthia has let me know that things are rarely boring here in Portland.”

“To put it mildly,” Nick said, trying not to look as worn down as thinking about it made him feel.

“…She said you came her a couple of years ago, Ms. Larson. And stayed,” she added, tone curious.

“Uh, yeah…I sort of decided to set up roots here. There is a lot going on and I got attached to…” she gestured at everyone present, who smiled.

“I see. It’s nice I think…Ah, here we are.” She came to a glass case at the back. “I had the library expanded over the last few months to include a few more delicate cases. This one has some of our older pieces. If you’d like to read them I can take them out, but you must wear gloves and be very careful.”

“Oh, we know the drill,” Monroe said. “My uncle was a rare books dealer…before he…” He cleared his throat and smiled.

“I see. I’ll get the gloves then; we have tables over there.” She turned and went to grab the gloves.

“This place is amazing,” Wu said, looking at a rack of swords.

“It’s a lot like that one in Boise now,” Hank said, nodding as he looked around again.

“Oh, they have some rare herbs and plants too!” Rosalee said, looking over a shelf nearby. “Fairywand, Welwitschia, Pennantia Baylisiana—oh my God! Rhizanthella gardneri? Where did they even find that?!”

“Something for everyone,” Nick said, chuckling.

“Unless they have books on tape, not quite,” Kelly sighed.

“…I’m sorry, mom, I thought…”

She smiled and patted his arm. “It’s alright, Nicky…I think I’m just going to go sit down for a bit though.”

Nick frowned, watching her go to sit in one of the comfier chairs near the electric fireplace. She was able to make her way to it fine, but he knew that was just after a lot of practice.

Sloane frowned as well and looked at Nick. “I thought she was doing pretty well…?”

“It still gets to her,” Nick said quietly. “I don’t know how to help…”

She subtly took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back. “I’m sure being there for her helps…”

“She’s pulling away though. I mean, I know we’ve been busy but after she moved out…I don’t know. I’m worried she’s not…that she…”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m worried too…”

“Alright, I have the gloves,” Victoria said, coming out with them. “I’ll unlock the case and you’re free to peruse—just please put one back before taking another.”

They nodded, taking the gloves. Monroe pulled his on as he walked back toward the books, Rosalee following him just as excitedly. The others were about to pull them on when Wu’s phone went off.

“Ah, I forgot to turn on the jammer…” Victoria said.

“It’s the precinct,” Wu frowned, looking at his phone.

“You better answer it,” Hank said.

Wu nodded, accepting the call. “Wu here…what? I mean, now? Why…oh…okay, yeah, uh…I’ll call them. Be there in a bit.” He hanged up and looked at the others.

“Let me guess. A weird case?” Hank sighed.

“Yep…”

“Now? I mean…could we do it later?” Monroe said, looking like his parade was seeing thunder clouds.

“I mean, you aren’t actually a police officer…”

“…True.”

“What did they say?” Nick asked.

“We got a body down at San Jacinto and Manchaca. Found in an alleyway.”

“Okay, seems fairly tame,” Sloane said.

“His face was skinned off. While he was still alive.”

“Skinned off?” Hank asked.

“…I stand corrected,” Sloane sighed, moving to take the gloves off.

Nick put a hand on hers though. “Why don’t you stay and start going through the books?” She quirked and eye at him and he smiled. “You know more German than I do, that’s why.”

“This is true,” she said.

“I guess that means it’s us three?” Hank asked.

“Damn,” Wu sighed. “Glad I kept a spare uniform in the car I guess.”

They handed their gloves back to Victoria and she smiled. “Duty calls?”

“Yeah…”

“Ah, now?” Monroe asked, looking up from the glass case where he was trying to pick out which book to start with.

“I believe you have a card…shall I have cards made for you two?”

“You can do that?” Wu asked, eyes wide. “I mean, aren’t they like a Grimm only thing?”

“Cynthia has told me of your adventures, as told to her by Ms. Larson. I think you qualify as honorary Grimm.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“She’s giving you a card, man,” Hank said, smiling at Wu’s excited expression.

She chuckled. “I’ll make them today. Ms. Larson can give them to you, if she stays.”

“I’m staying,” Sloane nodded.

“Okay. Here.” Nick handed her his car key since he’d driven over. “Hank, give me a lift?”

“Sure thing,” he nodded.

“We’ll stay too,” Monroe said. “Help look through the books.”

“Okay…mom?” Nick called.

“I’ll stay here I think. Adalind went to the store with Diana, at least I’m out of the house.”

He frowned again and looked at Sloane. She nodded back, knowing he was asking her to keep her eye on his mother. “I can give you a ride later,” she said to Kelly.

“Sounds good,” she waved, reclining back in the chair.

“I’ll see you at home,” Sloane said. Nick smiled and leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

“…Um…What was that?” Wu asked, looking between them.

“Oh right, you didn’t walk in on them,” Hank said.

“Walk in on them _what_?” he asked, looking both scandalized and excited. Nick blushed and pushed him towards the door, giving Sloane an apologetic look. Though she was blushing too she smiled and waved.

They then sat down and began reading carefully through the old books. They’d obviously been well maintained, but were still delicate and required careful turning of the pages to make sure they didn’t start falling apart. It was several hours later and several books later when they all stopped and rubbed their eyes.

“I’m seeing some interesting stuff but not what we’re looking for,” Monroe sighed, closing another book delicately.

“Yeah. This is still mostly descriptions of wesen—albeit a bit outdated,” Rosalee said. She pointed to a much more stylized, more animal-like picture of a fuchsbau. It was essentially a fox in pants. “My muzzle does not look like that when I woge…”

“But it does say your fur is “lustrous and the color of autumn leaves”,” Sloane said.

“Well, they’re right about that,” Monroe said, smiling dreamily at his wife.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. Looking at her watch, she sighed. “It’s getting late…”

“Yeah, and we aren’t having much luck,” Sloane sighed. “Should we call it?”

“Sure. We can come back another day,” Monroe said. They picked up their books and brought them back to the glass case, putting them carefully away.

Taking off their gloves, they headed to the front desk where Victoria sat working at a computer. She looked up and smiled. “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” Sloane said, handing her the gloves.

“What are you looking for precisely? I’ve been working to organize the books, maybe I saw it.”

“Uh…” Monroe said, looking at Sloane. “It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“…We’re looking into Grimm Templars. Regarding something the might have found,” Sloane said. “That’s about all we know right now too.”

“Hmmm…interesting. I will keep my eyes out for anything like that,” she said. “I have cards for your friends. And you two as well,” she smiled and handed them to Monroe and Rosalee.

“This is…really okay?” Monroe asked, looking at the card with a bit of amazement.

“Ms. Larson and Mr. Burkhardt trust you. So I will trust you too.”

“Thank you,” Rosalee said.

“I will say, do not use them at other libraries though,” she said quickly. “I circumvented the system here for you, but they might get flagged at another library. Then we might both be in trouble. Your Kehrseite friends I could get away with giving broader access—No risk of them woging and having them fight off a bunch of less understanding Grimms.”

“Ah, good point,” Monroe nodded.

Sloane took the other cards, putting them in her wallet for Hank and Wu. “Thank you again…I’m glad Cynthia was able to find someone that was so understanding,” she said honestly.

Victoria smiled and it was surprisingly warm. “I do try…please, come back whenever you wish. I will be here most days now and you will have my number soon if you need access at another time. We do not have a night librarian I’m afraid…can’t have all the luck.” Sloane nodded and turned to go.

Nick broke down what they knew for her when she got home, burgers in a bag after dropping Kelly back off at Adalind’s house. The victim had been found in an alley with his face flayed off, signs showing it was while he was alive. Sloane shuddered a little, willing to admit that was pretty gross even by her standards when he showed her the picture. Even his eyelids were gone. It reminded her of the Wild Hunt a bit, how they had come through scalping law enforcement officers for their coats. But thankfully he was the only recent victim. There had been two similar cases, one seven years ago, the other twelve, and neither had been solved. There had been others reported in other cities as well.

Their victim, Patrick Defonte, was originally from Idaho but they showed he’d gotten his license in 1999 there in Portland. He had a decently long rap sheet with a couple of misdemeanors, drunk and disorderly, and assault charges at different times. Last known whereabouts was the Rainbow Bar just down the street from where his body was found. The M.E. found alcohol in his system, three times the legal limit. But he died from asphyxiation. They found neurotoxic venom in his system, which caused paralysis, inhibiting his diaphragm from contracting. The M.E. had no clue how it got there.

Sloane wasn’t sure which kind, as poison was a favorite feature of many wesen, but she agreed this was likely a wesen killing. She didn’t know one that liked to eat faces. So they agreed to consult Monroe and Rosalee the next day.

\----------------

Sean took a deep breath before opening the door and walking in. The room was filled with flowers, most with some sort of _Get Well Soon_ sentiment written across the banners. In the hospital bed, Andrew was reclined on the bed. He looked up and smiled when Sean walked in. “Well…if it isn’t the conquering hero,” Andrew said. His voice was a bit quiet and tired but sounded genuinely happy to see him.

Renard smiled and walked in. “I was going to bring flowers but I thought you might be sick of them…”

He chuckled. “A bit, yeah…smells like a florist in here.” Sighing he gestured for him to sit nearby and Sean did so. “You saved my life…”

“I tried,” he said. “I…I don’t know what the doctors have told you…”

“That if I’m lucky enough to be able to walk again, I’ll need a can. And I’ll be on a pretty liquidated diet for a while…Part of my liver is gone but I got to keep my kidney, so there’s a plus,” he said, giving a thumbs up.

“…Are you putting on the chipper act?” Renard asked.

“No, I…” He sighed and then laid back a bit more. “…A bit, yeah. I honestly never thought someone would try and kill me…”

“Neither did I. I should’ve though. I should’ve cleared the area better, had more officers—”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Andrew said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “None of us saw this coming. I had no enemies I knew of outside of a few rightwing nutjobs and hedge fund managers. You and your officers saved my life so don’t go blaming yourself if I’m not going to be 100% myself again. I don’t blame you. I’m just grateful I made the right friend who would actually try to grab me out of the line of fire!”

Renard smiled and put a hand over his. “I…would say “any time”, but I really hope you don’t make this a habit.”

Andrew laughed and then grunted. “Oh, don’t make me laugh, it hurts…”

“So no turning on _Three Stooges_?”

“Ugh, you know my weaknesses still,” he groaned. “Never be my enemy or I really will be dead meat.”

Sean tried not to wince. He knew Andrew didn’t know the assassin was orchestrated by Black Claw trying to get Sean into power. He didn’t know that either till the other night. But it still hit a nerve to think about being his enemy even unintentionally.

“…Thanks, Sean.” He looked up, blinking in confusion and Andrew smiled. “I needed cheering up…honestly, I am…I am a bit scared about what’s going to happen. If I’ll be able to walk again…even so I probably can’t hike anymore…Just a liability mountain climbing…all that’s gone.” He choked a little, trying to keep a stiff upper lip.

“Hey, no, we don’t know for sure,” Sean said. “You’ll figure this out. You’re way too resourceful not to.”

“No…you were the resourceful one,” he sighed. “Always found points out of left field I never even thought of…You’ll be a good Mayor.”

Renard straightened. “What? Who said…?”

Andrew blinked. “Huh? Oh, Rachael was here earlier…she said you were thinking of running in my place.”

“…That was more her idea,” he said.

“Well I don’t think it’s a bad one. I’m not going to be able to run anymore—I mean as Mayor. They think I’m out of the danger zone but I’m still gonna have a long road to recovery…” He smirked. “It could be like college debate. You take the office now, and then I’ll manage to get it from you in a stellar campaign that makes you look like a pleb.”

“Big words, Dick,” he said, remembering the old banter. “…I’ll think on it. I’m not sure I like these circumstances.”

“Well, you have my blessing,” he said. Renard smiled a little, glad he seemed to be doing well.

After a bit more chatting, he decided to leave and headed down to his car. Pushing the button to start his car, he moved to drive forward out of his parking space only to slam the breaks when he saw a familiar face in front of him. She was dressed in black and her hair was in a short black bob—a wig he thought—but he knew that face well as he watched her walk to the passenger door. The locks popped against his wishes and she opened the door to slide into the passenger seat. “Juliette?”

“Nick would've told you by now,” she stated.

He relaxed slightly and sighed. “Eve,” he amended. “I understand you're working with Meisner now. Did you come to tell me I screwed up too?”

“We didn't see it,” she said.

“See what?” he asked, frowning.

“That he was gonna be a target.”

Renard realized what was she was talking about and sighed. “Yeah, well no one saw that coming…” he said, parroting the words Andrew said to him.

“We should have,” she said. The monotone broke slightly and he was able to detect a hint of frustration in her voice. Renard looked at her and she looked back, her face still as impassive as ever. “You wanted him to be mayor. You supported him. Why?”

“…He’s a good man. A good friend. I wanted to help and I thought he would make a good mayor—”

“Somebody asked you to,” she said, getting to the point she wanted.

He nodded. “His team…” _Should I tell her what they said? What they’re doing?_ Eve nodded and turned to reach for the door handle. “Wait. We're done?” he asked, incredulous. He hadn’t made up his mind yet.

“For now.”

“You know, there's a lot more we could talk about…”

“Right now, that's all I need,” she said, opening the door and stepping out. Renard frowned as he watched her go and sighed. _I’m not sure how much I can work with Meisner and his team on this…none of them seem to trust me. Can’t say I trust them either. I better start figuring out my options._

\----------------

“If they found neurotoxins in the victim, you might be dealing with something else,” Rosalee said, going over her ledger.

“Like what?” Hank asked.

“Koenigschlange?” Monroe suggested.

Rosalee sighed and shrugged. “But there's lots of Wesen with neurotoxic capabilities…”

“Yeah, that’s why narrowing it down isn’t the easy part this time,” Sloane said.

“What do you know about the victim?” Monroe asked.

“Someone took his face,” Hank said matter-of-factly.

They stared for a beat before he leaned in. “Come again?”

“Surgically removed it,” Nick said.

“A face lift. In that they lifted his face and took it with them,” Sloane said. “Have I mentioned how thankful I am you took this one?” Nick rolled his eyes.

“We think the attacker's got to be Wesen,” Hank said. “How would we explain the neurotoxins injected into the victim?”

“I brought you a couple of photos of the victim. Before... and after.” He handed them to them, one of a Caucasian man with shaved head and the other of him with his face gone, the muscle red and still moist beneath and his eyes staring with nothing to shield them.

“Ooh…” Monroe grimaced, taking the latter photo first. He took the other photo from Rosalee and gasped. “Oh, my God.”

“I know. It's awful,” Nick sighed.

“No, I know this guy!” Monroe said, pointing to the fleshed-out picture. “Patrick Somebody, he did construction on the old telegram building during the renovation when I was working on the clock tower. I saw him at the jobsite a bunch of times. He's kind of a jerk…or was.”

“Do you know if he was Wesen?” Sloane asked.

“Oh, yeah. Balam. Got in my face a couple of times until I Blutbaded him. Then he kept his distance.”

“Guess you didn’t mention the whole vegan and Pilates spiel,” Sloane said. He gave her a sardonic look and she just smiled.

“So the attacker is Wesen, and so is the victim…” Hank said.

“Oh…Xipe Totec,” Rosalee gasped.

Monroe’s eyes widened and he nodded slowly. “Maybe.” Rosalee quickly grabbed a book from nearby, going through it quickly. It was one of their own they’d added to the collection till Sloane knew what she wanted to do with her new books, so she knew them better.

“Being left in the dark here,” Nick said.

“Yeah, Sheepy what?” Sloane added.

Rosalee got to the page she was looking for and read out loud. “Xipe Totec, worshiped by Aztec warriors, was known to flay his victims and wear their skin. It was believed that in doing so, he absorbed their power. Warriors imitated Xipe Totec and created skin masks to help them gain strength during battle. This practice has been adapted into present day by Santeria priests, or Santeros, mostly comprised of Vibora Dorada.”

“Well, that would explain the neurotoxins, 'cause they paralyze their victims so the Wesen stay woged,” Monroe said.

“Why?” Sloane asked.

“Uh…not really sure. Honey?”

Rosalee shook her head. “It doesn’t give a reason. But it says the Santeria priest flays the Wesen epidermis and imbues the mask with the ability to transfer Wesen attributes onto its owner through the mask, even Kehrseite,” she finished, shocking all of them. “You know, I did some research on Santeria potions a while ago. Thought it'd be good for business. And I met a couple old-school Santeros here in Portland.”

“Well, do you think you can figure out how it works or who did it?” Nick asked, hopeful.

“If they're still around.”

“Can I copy that passage?” Sloane added. “I’d like to have it on hand and it might be good if we need to buy help from the library.”

“Sure, be my guest,” she said, turning the page towards her.

“Wait, so a Kehrseite can technically become a Wesen?” Hank asked, catching up with what it said.

Monroe shook his head. “In face only.”

“Well, maybe not,” Sloane said, reading the passage again. “It talked about wanting the warrior’s power. Maybe it works like a steroid…”

“Well, if Patrick was a Wesen, then this Vibora Dorada might be trying to make his face into a mask,” Nick said.

“Yeah, we got to find this guy…”

“I was going to go back to the library and keep looking,” Sloane said. “You guys mind?”

“No, see what you can find,” Nick nodded. “If Renard asks, we’ll say you’re researching the case. It’s not entirely a lie.”

She smiled and sat to copy down the passage.

\--------------------

Renard stepped into the restaurant, looking around like he always did. It was a habit he couldn’t break, to try and see any dangers lurking. If he’d done it more thoroughly, maybe his friend would still be alright. Looking to the back, he spotted Rachael’s bright red hair and made his way towards her. “Sorry I'm late,” he said, taking a seat in the booth across from her. The restaurant was the kind that was higher priced but tried to look like a rustic French winery, so they weren’t all that comfortable.

Rachael smiled though and turned her phone towards him. “I got to show you something.” Renard blinked and then tensed when he saw the headline on the Portland Tribune’s website.

_Police Captain Kills Assassin_

“They love you,” she smiled.

“But I didn't save Andrew...” he said, looking down. “He’s alive but…”

“You got his killer. Well, attempted killer.”

“Did I?” Renard asked, eyeing her.

“Of course you did. And the newspapers say so, so it must be true,” she said.

“You don’t have any remorse for what you’ve done?” he asked.

She sighed and leaned in to stare him down. “Look, Dixon served a purpose for a greater good.”

“You tried to kill him to further your own agenda. You nearly succeeded,” he hissed.

“Most agendas include death,” she stated. “There's more than one life at stake here. You're doing the right thing by joining us.”

“No, I haven't joined anybody yet,” he said firmly.

Rachael pursed her lips but continued to talk as if he hadn’t objected. “We’ve managed to spread rumors that Gallagher may have something to do with the assassination.”

“Defamation now?”

“You got me the information on his drug bust,” she reminded him. He narrowed his eyes and she went on. “We’ve managed to convince the governor that the shooting warrants a delay. A special election is going to be held, all newcomers welcome. Former Mayor Whistler will hold the office till then. We’ve got until June to make you the ideal mayor. To win, we think you'll need to have a family.”

Renard snorted. “Are you proposing?...Or are you pregnant?” he added, looking at her with a bit of wariness.

She laughed. “No and no. You don't need me for that. You already have a daughter.”

Renard gave her his full attention now. “How do you know about that?”

She smiled. “And Adalind's the mother.”

“…Again, how do you know about that?”

“We have our ways,” she said, sipping her water.

“…Well, what about them?” he asked.

“We want you to seem like more of a family man.”

“I visit her often.”

“We need more than that.”

“…I don’t think Adalind is open to that,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of a Hexenbiest who suppressed her powers.” Renard nearly dropped his glass, staring at her. No one else should know that. No one but their close group, and they wouldn’t have told. Rachael smiled. “You’re going to convince her to play house, Sean.”

“…And if I refuse?”

She picked up her phone again with a sigh and clicked through till she pulled up a news feed. “You’d have found out eventually anyway…”

He frowned and took it, bringing it close to listen and press play. He realized it was of a news anchor outside Overton Medical and felt his stomach drop before the pretty news woman even started talking. “Mayoral Candidate Andrew Dixon has passed away today. Despite the best efforts of doctors and Dixon’s will to fight, we’re told the damage was too great. Dixon was the victim of an assassination attempt three days ago, shot by a sniper at a local rally where he was talking about his desire to fight for equality and equity in our communities. Though his friend, Captain Sean Renard of the 83rd precinct, tried to save him, the shot caused a mortal wound. Captain Renard later tracked down and tried to apprehend the gunman single handedly, but after a fight the gunman was killed. Though little can help ease the grief for his family and community, there is some solace in that his killer didn’t escape justice. We hope—” Renard pressed pause and nearly threw the phone down.

“Sean,” Rachael said, sounding a bit reprimanding.

“I said I didn’t want him killed…” he choked out.

“What makes you think we killed him? He was badly wounded, Sean,” she said, trying to sound hurt.

“He was doing well earlier. A good prognosis. You wouldn’t show me this when I’m trying to back out unless you lot had a hand in it,” he ground out.

She sighed and sounded honestly remorseful this time. “Okay…yes. Lucien felt having him alive only complicated things. I did honestly try to tell him not to, but our orders from higher up said to go through with it…I am sorry, Sean. He was a good man. But he wasn’t the man we needed for this.” She reached up and took his hand. “I don’t want to keep racking up a body count either. But I know that if you don’t agree…well, they’ve already invested too much. They’re going to threaten whatever else you have. Whoever else they have to,” she said meaningfully.

Renard stared at her before looking down, his mind trying to find traction. He didn’t even notice Eve at the bar, watching them. Not that she was going to intervene.

\--------------------

Sloane sighed and set another book back inside the case.

“Still no luck?” Victoria asked.

“No…I think I might call it a day; I need some rest.”

“Oh, I was going to offer some coffee…”

She smiled. “Thank you, but no…I’ll probably be back again soon, unless I need to get on that case.”

“…You enjoy being a detective?”

“I do,” she smiled, taking the gloves off. “Thank you again. It’s great to have the library open.”

“Of course…Ah, Ms. Larson, wait.” She paused and Victoria quickly came around the side. “You have something in your hair.”

“Huh?” Sloane lifted a hand, feeling through her hair.

“Let me,” she said. Sloane felt fingers come through her hair, tugging slightly. “Ah, there we are.” She held up a couple of strands with white paint on them. “I’m so sorry, I had to touch up some paint earlier and it seems it was not quite dry at one of the back walls…”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Sloane said, fluffing through her hair. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Have a good day,” she smiled, waving.

Sloane headed out the door and up the well back to the woods. When she got to her car she checked her phone and saw she had a missed call and a text message from Nick. The jammer had been turned on so she didn’t have reception down in the library.

_Nick: We got another body, same area. Going to check it out. Eat without me, but I’ll be home soon as a can._

And started for home. She figured she probably had a microwave dinner that would be fine for the night since she didn’t feel like more fast food.

She was almost home when her phone rang, the number unrecognized. She considered not answering in case it was a robo-call, but she knew too many people who switched numbers often and accepted it through her Bluetooth. “Larson.”

“It’s Renard.”

She blinked and looked at the screen on the car again before going on. “Captain? This isn’t your number.”

“I’m using a burner phone. And I’m not calling as the captain. I need to meet you, as a Grimm,” he said.

She was on alert and stood. “Nick’s on a case right now…”

“I know, they said you were working on something else. I don’t care about that; this isn’t to do with it. Just…please, can you meet me?”

“…Yeah. Where?”

“My office.”

“I thought this wasn’t a police matter.”

“It’s not, but I’m being watched I think. I checked it for bugs already so it should be safe.”

She frowned, thinking he sounded paranoid, and stood. “Okay…I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” he said, and the relief was palatable over the phone. Sloane hanged up, finished the last couple of bites of her food and got her boots back on. She got to the station quickly and headed right for Renard’s office, noting the blinds were all pulled down. Knocking, Renard’s voice beckoned. “Come in.” She did so, closing the door behind her. “Lock it, please.”

She quirked a brow but did so. “What’s this all about, cap…Renard?”

She realized he looked frazzled and wondered how he’d been sleeping. “…Did you watch the news?”

“Uh, not yet, no…” she said.

“…Andrew is dead.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “Oh…Oh, I’m sorry…” she said honestly. “I thought he was doing better…”

“He was. He was murdered. They succeeded this time.”

“What?” she asked, coming closer to his desk. “I…Black Claw got to him still?”

“Yes. I’m not sure how. I doubt I’ll be able to prove anything even if I requested and autopsy. They’re saying it was complications from the surgery.”

“And you’re sure it was Black Claw and not that?”

“You think I’m paranoid?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“No, I believe you, I just want to know how you know…”

He sighed, setting his elbows on his desk and then pressing his elbows to his clasped hands. “Because they told me. Rachael has been working for them this whole time.”

“…Well…I knew I didn’t like something about her,” Sloane said. “Wait, why would she tell you?”

“…There's going to be a special election, because of Andrew's assassination. And I will likely be running in it for Mayor.”

Sloane stared. “You what now?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “This is what Black Claw wanted. A wesen at a higher office, in their pocket. First mayor, then…well, they left it open for me to _dream_ ,” he said, making the word sound distasteful.

“…I mean…don’t you want to climb the ladder and all that?” she asked delicately. “You strike me as being ambitious. Nick told me about the Coins of Zakynthos incident where you kind of went all “charismatic leader” on everyone…”

“…Can’t say it’s not my proudest moment to be honest. I was damn good,” he sighed, pulling out a tumbler of scotch and some glasses. He offered one to her but she shook her head so he just poured a small bit for himself. He talked while he did. “Yes, I want power. Maybe it’s what little bit of a Zauberbiest I am trying to get power where I can. Maybe it’s the royal blood. Who knows?” He set the tumbler back down and picked up the glass, looking at the intricate cuts a moment to get lost in them. “I used to be willing to do _anything_ for that power. Lie, cheat, kill…I sent Adalind to kill Nick’s aunt at the hospital.”

“He mentioned that too…” she said, frowning in disapproval.

He shrugged, downing the small fingerful of scotch in one go. “Like I said, willing to do anything.”

“So why are you telling me this? You know we want to stop Black Claw.”

“Because I want you to stop them too,” he said.

Sloane quirked a brow. “Wait, so…you don’t want to be mayor?”

“It’s not a matter of “don’t’ want”,” he said, pouring another small glass. “I’d rather work my way to superintendent. As a police officer, I have my finger on the pulse of the city much easier. I know the crimes; I know the people. I can pull strings without hardly making an effort or leaving a trail. That’s also a kind of power. The higher up you go, the more scrutiny you’re under, making it harder actually. I know that sounds bad, but I also genuinely care about this city. Wesen and Kehrseite alike. Black Claw only cares about Wesen. And they will kill whoever they have to in order for them to be the ones controlling the city. And not just Portland, they have other members in political races across the nation.”

“…Are they planning some kind of…full wesen take over?” Sloane asked, feeling a shiver go up her spine.

“I don’t know. They haven’t told me much more than that, but I’m sure the more their numbers grow and the more power they get, the bolder they will get.”

Sloane nodded slowly. “And you can’t say no?”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he sneered. “They know about Adalind and Diana. And they know Adalind’s powers are currently gone.”

Sloane’s eyebrows rose. She knew that wasn’t quite true—her powers were returning. But best maybe to hold that card back for now. “And they threatened them?” she guessed.

“Yes. They also want them to “help”. Think I need to be a family man to get the voters to turn out.”

“Bit sexist.”

He smiled and then sighed. “…What I’m proposing is going to be dangerous. For me especially.”

“…You want to be a double agent,” Sloane realized.

“Right again,” he said.

“…Isn’t Meisner who you should be talking to?”

“Meisner and I still aren’t on speaking terms. Honestly, I’m a bit fed up with _Hadrian’s Wall_. Even came to visit me earlier too.” Sloane tensed and he nodded. “I thought about telling her but she walked away saying that’s all she needed from me.”

“…I can see the frustration,” Sloane admitted. “Then you want Nick and me to—”

“Just you.”

Sloane froze and then shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“Sloane, Nick has never trusted me. Not fully. Not since finding out I tried to have Marie killed. It’s not that I blame him for holding that against me, but I’ve tried to help several times. I got shot trying to bring a cure for Adalind’s curse to him. She trusts her more than he trusts me, and she’s directly hurt him much more often,” he added a little bitterly.

“He’s just not sure where you stand sometimes,” Sloane said. “But he’d want to help take down Black Claw.”

“And he can, but don’t let him know where you get the information. You can share it with Hadrian’s wall as well. But I don’t want anyone knowing it’s me. It would put Adalind and Diana in danger. The less people who know, the better. Nick might just go in, guns a blazing too, let’s be honest.”

“He’s more careful than that…” Sloane said, but she knew there was still a chance. He could be reckless too. Renard looked at her and she squirmed a little before sighing. “Alright…I’ll keep it a secret.”

He sighed, relaxing finally just a little. “Thank you…I know I put you in an awkward position, but I appreciate it. I’ll figure out the best way for us to exchange information without them knowing.”

She nodded, trying not to feel panicky at keeping a secret like this from Nick when they were just finally starting a relationship. She hoped he’d understand if and when he found out…

\-----------------

Sloane came home again to find Nick’s car in the garage. She sighed, still thinking over what Renard said. But she’d promised to keep it a secret. Heading up, Nick was on the couch watching the news. He looked up and smiled when she walked in. “Hey! I was starting to worry…”

She smiled and walked over to sit with him. “Sorry, had to go run a quick errand…”

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking at her with mild concern.

“…No, yeah, great,” she smiled. “Just…um…Dixon died.”

He nodded, frowning as well. “I saw the news…I’m sorry. I know you tried hard to save him.”

“…Yeah. Um, I wonder though. He was doing fine last time we heard. What if Black Claw finished the job?”

Nick nodded slowly. “The thought crossed my mind too…but I’m not sure how to pursue it yet.”

She hummed in agreement. “…What happened with the case tonight?”

“Oh, _a lot_ ,” he sighed. He went on to describe finding the body, which had died from his head being busted open by being thrown against a wall like rotten crate of fruit. They tracked him down to a local wrestling ring where they’d been having Luchadores night. The manager at the ring, where the man was a headliner, told them he was shocked. He’d just had a match against a fighter with a new “tiger” mask who was dominating everyone. When they asked where they get their masks, they found out about the mask maker Benito. Rushing to the shop, they were met with the man in the tiger mask wailing on the old man, who was woged into a Vibora Dorada but unable to bite him in time to stop the blows. They got the luchadores off him, and he fought like he was possessed, throwing them around too. They were finally able to restrain him. The old man woged back and told them they needed to perform the Ceremonia de Desgracias to remove the mask. Luckily he called Monroe and Rosalee and Rosalee remember copying the ceremony down in her research. They came and managed to perform it, pulling the mask off—which then turned back into a human face among the leather disturbingly. Their suspect/fellow victim was a young, aspiring luchadores named Goyo they found out. He’d wanted power and Benito offered it to him. It cost a lot more than either thought it would though. Goyo seemed to have lost his mind in the end, “hearing the masks” talk to him.

“Wow…that is…”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded, sighing. “Not the ideal ending…he didn’t know what he was getting into.”

“Yeah…Hey, um…do you trust the Captain?”

Nick blinked and looked at her in confusion. “Renard?”

“Yeah…Like, be honest and just say what you feel.”

He blew out a breath, thinking. “I…trust him to an extent. I know he’s not evil, but I don’t know if he’s…on our side, if that makes sense. He wants to help the city, I believe that, but I also think he’s ambitious to the point that if you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. I know he wanted the keys badly enough to try and kill my aunt, and have Adalind poison Hank, and honestly a lot of the bad things that have happened can be traced back to him. The only time I trust him is when I know that failure would mean trouble for him too. Otherwise, I’m always wondering when he’s going to try and screw me over again…”

“…I see…”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, I…saw that article someone wrote on him being a hero. Wasn’t sure how to feel about it.”

“Yeah, saw it on here too,” he said. “I feel like you should get some credit for being there and trying to save Dixon…Him getting the credit doesn’t endear him to me either. Like I said, he’ll use anything to get ahead…” he added bitterly.

Sloane sighed, wondering if Renard was right. Maybe Nick wasn’t ready to trust him still. She didn’t blame him, but she was also worried about losing a connection to Black Claw that could be invaluable. “Yeah…I don’t mind really though, not keen on the spotlight still.”

“Hmm…Oh, but I do have this for you,” he said. He reached over the side and pulled up the teddy bear.

“…Thank you?” she said, confused.

“Leo used it for your real souvenir,” Nick said, smiling.

“Oh, good, I had no idea what to do with a teddy bear at my age,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. She took it and looked it over before finding the hidden zipper in the back and pulling it down. Reaching in, she pulled out the wrapped knife. She found the edge and unwrapped it, and gave a soft gasp when she saw the black leather hilt and the Viking-like knot work on the pommel. She looked it over, holding it both her hands, tossing it between them with a growing smile. “It feels good.”

“Look at the blade,” Nick said, trying not get too excited she liked it.

She unclipped the sheath and pulled it off slowly. She paused when she saw the scrollwork _S._ “…This...”

“I wanted it to be your initial. It’s not a Grimm or Galperin or whatever the G was for, it’s S for Sloane,” he explained. “It’s history is what you make it.” Sloane stared a moment and Nick was worried she didn’t like it. But then he saw a droplet fall and from her bent head and realized she was crying. “Sloane?”

“I love it…” she said, looking up and wiping her eyes. “I know it must seem kind of crazy, getting worked up over a knife like this but…”

He smiled and grasped her hand over the hilt. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you like it.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, setting the knife down on the table without breaking contact to kiss him harder and he leaned back with a hum as she followed him.

\--------------------------

Once Sloane was gone, Victoria took a deep breath and walked behind the desk to that back room again. Unlocking it with a key on a retractable lead on her waist, she went inside. It used to be a holding cell, but she’d had it turned into an office and moved the cells to another area to make them less dungeon-like. The office was wallpapered with green and silver brocade, warm wood paneling on the bottom half to give it a classic and calming feeling. It had another old antique writing desk set up on a short wall, meant for private work instead of the horseshoe desk outside.

In contrast, the back wall had a large cork board set up that looked like a conspiracy theorist’s bedroom. Photos, news clippings, even bits of string connecting a few. The oldest were about the Larson family—their businesses, their properties, things like that. Others were about various unsolved crimes—disappearances and murders. A larger article from _The Wildred Review_ was highlighted on one side with other articles radiating out. The headline read “ _Local Grandmother Murdered in her Home—Granddaughter Found Alive by Her Body_ ”. From there a few others were connected by thin blue threads noting unsolved crimes. At the other end of the board was the newest article from several months ago. It was a smaller one, not front-page material. But it had a picture of Sloane and Nick on it from when they won third place at the ballroom dancing competition, hunting the Phantanzerin. Sloane’s name was highlighted.

Victoria looked at the hairs in her hand and took a deep breath she wiped the still wet paint off. It was actually white out she’d put on her fingers beforehand to look like paint. She then picked up a small plastic bag and set the hairs inside. Grabbing her cellphone from the desk, she dialed a number. “Hello? …Yes, it’s me. I have the other sample. I’m going to drop it off to you tomorrow. Please test both of them and let me know the results the moment you find out. …Thank you.” She ended the call and looked at the hairs again before holding them close to her chest. “Please…please be her…”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, here's where a lot of things are going to start changing! No disrespect to the original writers, but I felt like it was both a bit rushed and like something was missing. Also, Diana being a "bride/mother" was uh...yeah, no. Even if she grew faster than normal, no, she was still a child and it was still freakin creepy in the not fun way. Since she's not growing faster here that's definitely not going to be the tie in now, there will be another reason there seems to be a connection to them and for what Adalind saw while she was pregnant.
> 
> Also, new librarian! Victoria will be important going forward if you haven't guessed. Leo is more of a cameo to be honest, but you never know, he might come back. And I mainly summarized Silence of the Slams because, while it's an interesting episode, I just didn't really see the need to delve deeper into it or change anything. Dixon almost lived too btw, but I realized ultimately it works better for him to be killed.
> 
> Let me know what y'all think and if you have any theories!


End file.
